Hellbound
by The Flame and Hawk's Eye
Summary: After Roy Mustang's explosion at Laboratory 3 kills both Wrath and Lust, Father deems both Roy and Riza Hawkeye as forces too strong to ignore. So rather than fight against them, he decides to fight with them.. Faced with the rebirth of Wrath and Lust, the Elric brothers and Team Mustang enter a desperate fight to save their King and Queen.. before it's too late. AU divergence fic.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N** : _TFaHE, why are you writing another fic!? Well, because I was inspired by this post by liberty_flight on Tumblr, which can be found here: /post/124377040824/i-love-the-fics-where-either-roy-or-riza-are-made. It will be different than 'Gravity,' I should also mention._

 _Pretty much, the concept is: What if Father thought that both Roy_ and _Riza were detrimental to his plans? So much so that he uses them as bases for Homunculi to ensure that he has them on his side. But the thing is, they are so hard-wired to protect and care for each other that their love causes issues for the Homunculi._

 _Of course, Edward and Alphonse, Team Mustang, the Armstrongs, and even General Grumman and Madame Christmas will have major roles. Like liberty_flights said, "Everyone touched by the Flame Alchemist and Hawk's Eye will be moved to help them. Expect Royai, Edwin, Havolina, some AlMay, and lots of angst._

 _So… let's see where this goes._

* * *

As he himself slowly come to, Roy Mustang let out a low groan before he cautiously opened his eyes, only to squeeze them shut a beat later with a hiss when he was greeted by a blinding light. Gritting his teeth, he desperately tried to recall what happened and where he was, because it certainly was not the hospital. Trying to, at the very least, move and sit himself up, he discovered that his hands and legs were bound.

It was definitely not the hospital…

Then a small, "Sir," broke through the darkness he had brought upon himself and his eyes immediately flew open again. Swiveling his head to his left, he saw Riza Hawkeye lying on a table next to him; battered, bloody, bruised… and bound just as he was. Her brown eyes flickered back and forth as she examined him, looking for any signs of immediate hurt or distress on his face.

"Lieutenant-"

Suddenly, everything that had happened returned to him all at once.

He had instructed her to get his uniform so that he could leave the hospital. They left and had been driving home when something slammed into Riza's car, sending them hurtling into an embankment. The details after that, however, were fuzzy; filled with fragmented memories of Riza's voice and sharp, shooting pains as he was jostled and jerked around.

"Are you alright, Lieutenant," he uttered, his voice gravelly and rough.

"I'm fine," she murmured back as she slowly nodded her head. "Are you-"

"I'm alright," he replied with a weak smile in assurance. Aside from the concussion he assumed he had sustained from the crash, and the fresh, yet healing, burn to his side, he was… Alright.

When she tried to speak again, she was cut off as a voice pierced the darkness that otherwise surrounded them. Turning his head toward it, Roy narrowed his eyes and scowled as a man in a white jacket emerged from behind them.

Grinning a devilish gold-laced smile, he peered at Roy over the rims of his glasses as he said, "I have to say that I'm surprised to see you here, Mustang. I had expected your purpose to be a different one. But," he added as his gleeful grin stretched from ear to ear, "I can't say I'm disappointed."

"Where are we," Roy snarled as he checked his bindings again, finding that they felt even tighter than before

"Those details are unimportant at this point, Colonel," the man quipped as he waved him off. "Since it really won't make much of a difference knowing." Then he turned his attention toward Riza and stepped over to her, leaning over her as she flinched away. Unfazed by this action he moved closer and grabbed her chin, turning her face toward him.

"Get your hands off her," Roy roared, fighting against the bindings.

Suddenly a dark shadow loomed over him as a commanding, yet soft voice mumbled, "I wouldn't look it I were you, Colonel."

Taking his eyes off Riza for the moment, they snapped up to see a blond, bearded man standing over him. Noticing he had Roy's attention for the moment, the man explained, "The process is excruciatingly painful, and there are few that are able to accept it."

"What process," Roy snarled as his eyes darted between the man and Riza, trying to keep tabs on both of them. She, however, had focused her attention on the coated man who was now in the corner of the room, hunched over something and working feverishly on it.

"You will understand very shortly, Colonel," the man soothed. "But for now, keep your focus on me."

His eyes snapping back up to the man, Roy growled, "So who the hell are you?"

"All in due time," the man assured cryptically. "Everything will become clear soon enough."

"Well I want answers," Roy snapped back as he jerked against the restraints in defiance.

The blond-haired man let out a long and tired sigh. After a few moments of contemplating Roy's request, he relented and said, "If that will give you the final bit of peace you so crave, then I will tell you.

"You see, Colonel Mustang, you and your Lieutenant have become quite the threat to our plan; after all, you managed to kill two of my children in a single night. And given your past and ambitions, simply asking for you to accept our presence and cooperate will not do.

"So instead I've decided to offer you something. Something that will make you cooperate. Should you accept it, you will have more power than you could ever imagine."

"We refuse," Roy bit back. "The Lieutenant and I would never accept anything like that."

"Oh, I wasn't giving you a choice," the bearded man clarified. "You will receive it regardless of what you say, but whether you two accept it or not will be the deciding factor."

Hearing a muffled cry, Roy's head instantly twisted around to see the doctor leaning over Riza, his elbow planted firmly against her sternum and his hand clapped over her mouth, pinning her down to the table. Her wide, panicked eyes found and locked on Roy's, screaming silently in both terror and confusion.

Feeling a burst of adrenaline surge through him, Roy let out a feral yell as he began to twist and turn against his restraints, lifting his core off of the table and slamming it down in a combined fit of desperation and rage.

The doctor, unfazed by Roy's cries, continued as if nothing were amiss, raising his other hand to display a syringe of viscous red liquid. Lowering it, he then steadied his it before he plunged the needle into her neck, eliciting a muffled wail from her as she continued to struggle beneath his firm hold. As he pushed down on the plunger, Roy saw her eyes widen and her pupils dilate as her body began to accept the unidentified concoction into its veins.

A beat later a blood-curdling scream erupted from her, partially muffled by the man's hand as he continued to restrain her. Roy could only watch and continue to cry out and struggle as her body began to convulse and writhe.

"Lieutenant...! LIEUTENANT!" Using every ounce of strength he had, Roy jerked against the shackles that bound his wrists and ankles, cutting deeply into his flesh. But none of that mattered. The blood. The pain. Nothing.

No matter what. He had to break free. He had to save her–

A pair of hands suddenly grabbed Roy's head and twisted it around so that he was staring into the golden eyes of the bearded man once again.

"I told you not to look," he muttered just loud enough to be heard over Riza's muffled cries. "The process is extremely painful. Not everyone survives."

Upon hearing this, Roy frantically tried to jerk his head away from the man's firm grip. Fighting, struggling, he finally managed shift it enough to watch from his peripheral vision as her spasms slowed then stopped, the echoed sounds of her thrashing against the table growing dimmer as they slowly bounced off of the walls of the otherwise empty room. Out of the corner of his eye, he could just barely make out Riza's stilled form. Then, he watched as a series of red sparks illuminated her bloodied fingertips, raw and worn to the bone from trying to claw into the stainless steel table.

"Mm, good good," the bespectacled man mumbled as he eyed the sparks that flitted around Riza's fingers. "I think we may have a success over here."

"L-lieutenant," Roy quietly called as the man adjusted his glasses. Riza did not stir, lying eerily still. "Lieutenant," he called again, louder that time.

When she still did not answer, a sense of panic washed over him. Fighting harder against the restraints, he focused in on her and tried to roll and writhe away from the impossibly tight grips on his wrists and ankles, calling her rank louder each time.

He had been so focused on her that he did not immediately register the second shadow that fell over him. The moment her name left his lips was the moment the second needle found his jugular.

Suddenly a burning sensation erupted throughout Roy's entire body, a feeling akin to that of being consumed by his own flames. Biting down on his tongue, he stifled back a scream as his body reacted to the agony, twisting and contorting as it multiplied exponentially with every passing second. All at once it felt as though his bones were being broken, his organs ruptured, and his heart pierced by thousands of blades.

No longer able to hold it back, he bit through his tongue before opening his mouth and letting loose his body's torment. Twisting, jerking, and pulling against the restraints with what remained of his strength, he snapped his head to the side and managed to catch a glimpse of blonde hair and dark eyes through the splotches of red that had begun to dot his vision. Trying to keep his focus on that one significance, he pushed against everything that held him back, his fingers slowly extending toward her.

But when he tried to call her name one last time, the only think to escape his lips was a spurt of blood as his lungs contracted. Trying to catch a breath, he pushed through the pain and willed himself to continue fighting until the very moment his life would cease… because she needed him. That single notion, however, was the last thought that crossed his mind before the darkness gripped him and plunged him into its endless abyss.

* * *

"'Sir.'"

Lazily opening his eyes, 'Colonel Roy Mustang' looked up at the blonde-haired Lieutenant that stood before him, her arms crossed over a bundle of files and papers.

"Yes, Lieutenant," he asked, trying his best to hide his smirk.

Seeing his attempt, the corner of her lip twitched upward before she masked her expression once more. "It would seem that the Elric brothers are causing quite a stir downtown, as if they're purposefully seeking attention."

"Is that so," came his reply. "One can only wonder what they're up to."

"Indeed," she responded to his musing. "From what I've heard, Scar has been seen in the area as well."

He sighed. "Well if that's the case," he said as he pushed his chair back and got to his feet, "It's best find we find them before they get themselves killed."

"Yes, sir," she agreed as she set the papers down on his desk.

Glancing over at the solitary soldier that was sitting in the corner of the room tinkering with a radio, Mustang said, "The Lieutenant and I are going to investigate this matter further. Should Lieutenant Breda or Officer Falman report back before then, tell them to get started on organizing and filing the Rodgers papers."

"Yes, sir," the black-haired man replied with a crisp salute. "I'll let them know if they should return."

"Thank you," the Colonel responded as he grabbed his jacket off of his chair and threw it over his shoulders. As he was about to motion for the Lieutenant to follow, however, he caught the Sergeant still staring. When he turned to face him, the timid young man quickly looked back down at his radio and began to mess work on it again. Deciding that it wasn't worth his time, the Colonel motioned for his Lieutenant to follow.

As soon as they stepped into the hallway and closed the door, the blonde-haired soldier murmured, "He might suspect something."

The Colonel nodded. "We'll just have to try and modify our behavior to better fit theirs. We want to maintain these façades for as long as possible."

She hummed in response as they began to head toward the front doors of Central Command. "It shouldn't be too hard," she mused. "I just need to maintain a show of loyalty and complete and utter devotion to you, while you just need to act as arrogant and self-assured as him."

The Colonel let out a low whistle and smirked. "He definitely did not appreciate that comment."

Smiling back, the sniper replied, "Neither did she."

He chuckled slightly at the notion, at the shared bitterness of their hosts. Their other emotions and feelings were an incredible annoyance. But their bitterness, resent, rage: he could work with those.

As they walked out the doors and made their way down the steps of Central Command, he said, "Despite occasional annoyances such as that, our partnership should prove beneficial. After all, it is instinct." When they made it to the bottom of the staircase, he cocked his head toward her. "Keeping that in mind, will you still follow me," he asked as his dark-eyed glance was met by piercing violet eyes.

Her lips curled upward into a mischievous grin as she replied, "Of course. After all, I'd follow you into hell if you asked me to."


	2. Chapter 2

The moment his pain stopped, Roy found himself submerged in a sea of black. But despite not seeing what had surrounded him, he knew that he was far from alone.

What he would describe as thousands upon thousands of voices rang out around him, ranging from the softest of whispers to the loudest of screams erupting from every direction his eyes darted toward. Some jeered him. Others begged for their lives. And some only seemed capable of wailing about their disdain for their existence there.

His mind began to race, trying to process what was happening. What those voices were... How he had gotten there. All he had remembered was waking up and seeing Riza-

Suddenly Roy's eyes flew open and his body tensed.

"Oh! He's awake," one of the voices crooned. A moment later the man in the white jacket bent over him, his distinct golden tooth catching and casting the light it captured as his grin stretched from ear to ear.

"Interesting," the second voice murmured as Roy's eyes darted over to the blond-haired man that stood over him. "The Ouroboros is not completely dominating that eye."

The gold-toothed doctor moved in closer as he adjusted his glasses. Staring down at Roy with his crossed eyes, he mumbled, "Yes, you're quite right. It's almost as if it's flickering; flickering back and forth in front of the iris."

"As long as the process was a success," the blond-haired man – Father, a quiet voice whispered in his ear– said in reply, "It matters not the state of the Ouroboros."

His eyes blinked again, slowly.

"It's gone…" the doctor mused as his wild eyes widened with excitement.

"Inconspicuous," Father murmured as he gazed down at Roy. "Possibly even more successful than the first Wrath..."

Wrath…?

His focus still on Roy, Father addressed him, "Are you able to speak, child?"

Child...? He-

"Yes, Father," he answered without hesitation.

What? He hadn't said that…. He hadn't said that!?

A faint smile graced the older man's lips as he looked down at Roy with newfound admiration. "A second success in one day… I'm very pleased."

A second success…?

His hand then rose up on its own and hovered above his face, slowly rotating so that his eyes could perceive it. After a few moments, his voice once again spilled from his mouth without any additional thought, as if his body were lagging behind his mind, "A second?"

Father nodded as his eyes rose to peer at an area to Roy's side. His head turning to follow his gaze, he watched as a familiar blonde came into view, now donning a white scrub top and pants, her hair cascading over her shoulders as she sat on the edge of the steel table next to him. Despite the fact that he was eyeing her, her focus was intently fixed on the man called 'Father.'

His mind automatically begged him to call out to her, to ask if she were okay, as his memories began to reorient themselves. He had seen her on the brink of death just minutes… hours, before. But once again his body would not let him, opting only to continue watching her in complete and total silence.

As if noticing him for the first time, she turned slightly toward him, dark and calculating eyes narrowing as she eyed him as intently as he did her. Then, the corners of her lips curled upward, and his soul shuddered.

That smile that was so… unlike her.

That's when something red caught his eye. His body reacted to it, instinctively setting its sights on what it was to try and make sense of it. The bright red head of a snake and the corners of two triangles that overlaid just below her collar bone, partly covered by the shirt's vee-neck, immediately called for his attention… and his memories.

An Ouroboros… Just like—

"Your memories have been cleared," the older man explained. "I doubt that you would remember her anyways, especially considering that she too has a new form."

"She," his voice uttered in question.

Father nodded. "We were lucky to both salvage you, Wrath… and Lust."

At the mention of her name, Roy's mind flew into a confused frenzy. Lust...? No… No, he had burned her, desecrated her until she was nothing but a charred, unidentifiable corpse. That was impossible. He destroyed her! That wasn't Lust… That wasn't—

"What is the matter, my child," Father asked, his voice tinted with a mix of curiosity and concern.

"He's fighting," his voice muttered as his brows furrowed. "He claims that she is not who you say she is."

"Oh," a voice soothed, once again bringing his attention back to the woman in question. "I can assure you that I am who he says. And," she added with a small smirk, "It's nice good to be back among the living."

No... Please no. That couldn't-that couldn't be possible! He tried calling Riza's name again, tried taking control, but the ever-present force that had been holding him back pushed him further down, suffocating his cries as the screams that had awoken him grew louder.

They took her. They took her and replaced her with that.

And he… He realized as the force that had been controlling his body took hold of him, had been taken as well…

* * *

Reaching up, Wrath rubbed his fist over his face and growled, "This damn body won't get used to this eye."

"As long as it rights itself before we reach the Elric brothers, that is all that will matter," Lust murmured as her eyes darted up to look at him in the rearview mirror for a moment before returning to the road.

"Right," he uttered as he pulled his hand away and blinked, noticing that the crisp sharpness the Ultimate Eye brought with it had vanished.

"It's gone," he heard her say from the front seat.

"Alright," he muttered as he sat back in his seat and frowned. He'd have to concentrate on not letting it slip again. The Colonel's body was still fighting to reject it, and him, and it was getting very agitating…

"She's fighting as well," she added as she glanced up in the front mirror again. "It'll be hard containing them when we encounter the Elrics, so be prepared."

"I intend to be," he answered, leaning against the car door and resting his chin on top of his balled up fist. Despite his overbearing dominance at that moment, the Colonel still continued to fight tooth and nail against him. Wrath's eyes flicked up again to note that Lust's outward appearance had not changed, and that she showed no indication of her internal struggle against Riza Hawkeye. Bound and determined to do the same, Wrath gave the Colonel's soul one final shove, thrusting him further into the recesses of his mind.

* * *

"Ah-achoo!"

"Gesundheit," Alphonse chirped as he grabbed a napkin from the table they were seated at and held it out toward Edward.

Leaning back in his chair, Edward crossed arms and smirked. "The whole city must be talking about me!"

Seeing that his brother wasn't going to stop to accept the tissue, Alphonse sighed and set it back down on the table. "Well, it's no wonder if you're this flashy about it."

Throwing his head back, Edward let out a short laugh before saying, "I can raise my reputation and fish Scar out. It's killing two birds with one stone."

"I suppose," Alphonse answered. "Now all we have to do is wait for your name to reach Scar's ears."

Just as Edward was about to comment once again on his prowess, the sound of an approaching car wafted to their ears. Turning around, they watched as the car pulled up next to the sidewalk and stopped. They watched as the backseat's occupant rolled the window down, revealing that it was none other than Colonel Roy Mustang.

Scowling at the two boys, he muttered, "Do you two want to explain what you're doing?"

"Heh," Edward scoffed as he walked up to the window and leaned against it, giving Mustang a sideways glance. "I could ask you the same thing." Moving closer, he murmured, "I heard everything about Second Lieutenant Ross."

The Colonel furrowed his brows for a moment, his eyes darting up to peer at Hawkeye, who was watching them intently in the rearview mirror. A second later, he looked back at Edward and mumbled, "Right… Right, that's good."

Edward raised a brow at the response, but brushed it off for the moment. After what had just happened, he assumed there was someone else on Mustang's mind... "And I heard about Second Lieutenant Havoc, too."

"Is that so," Mustang asked slowly as he watched Edward's face with newfound curiosity.

"Yeah," Edward went on. "Because about that, I think Dr. Marcoh can-"

The Colonel raised his hand, demanding silence from the young boy. "We can exchange information elsewhere. Get in."

The two boys looked at each other for a moment before Edward shrugged and opened the back door, inviting Alphonse to slip inside. Walking around to the other side of the car, he opened the passenger side door and fell back into the seat. Turning toward Hawkeye, he shot her a faint smile and offered a quick greeting.

Smiling back, she returned it with her own 'hello' before turning back to face the road.

A moment later he heard Alphonse yelp a quick apology. Both occupants of the front seat turned around to see Alphonse consuming the entire space of the backseat, with Mustang pushed up against the window. "I'm sorry," he squeaked as he lifted his arm above his head in an effort to give the Colonel as much space as possible.

"It's fine," the Colonel grumbled as he attempted to shift and make more room for himself. "Let's just drive and find somewhere more spacious to discuss matters." Looking up at the front seat, his eyes once again locked on the Lieutenant's. With a sharp nod, she started the car and put it in drive.

The car shifted beneath them and Edward lurched forward, bobbing into the back passenger cabin of the vehicle. Before he corrected his posture, however, something in on the floor of the backseat caught his eye. "What the hell is this," he asked with a half-laugh as he snagged a long, metal object from off of the floor. He held it up to better see it. Then his brow wrinkled . "What are you doing with a sword?"

He was about to unsheathe it when Mustang ripped the object from Edward's hands. "It's a new military standard," he explained in slight annoyance.

"Oh, and here I thought you were trying to compensate for something," Edward snidely replied back as he tried to lean closer to see. "Do I get one-"

"Of course not," Mustang replied bluntly as he pulled it out of Edward's reach and leaned it against the door. "Only those holding the rank 'Colonel' or higher are granted one."

Edward snorted and rolled his eyes, "I was just asking, geez. It's not like I'd want one of those anyways, especially since I could just transmute one whenever I want. Though I'd make it look more badass than that toothpick."

Just as Mustang rolled his eyes, the car turned the corner into an alleyway and slowed. Taking off his seatbelt, Edward quickly opened the door of the car and climbed out as the rest of the vehicle's occupants followed suit. Turning around, he watched as Mustang briskly strode around the vehicle and stopped in front of him, while Hawkeye stood a few feet away, removing the gun from her hip and holding it between her hands. Alphonse was the last to join them after maneuvering himself skillfully out of the vehicle without damaging the roof.

"Alright," Mustang asked as he folded his arms over his chest, "What do you have?"

"Like I was saying before, I think that Dr. Marcoh can heal Lieutenant Havoc. He has a Philosopher's Stone and-"

"Except," Mustang interjected. "Our reports indicate that Dr. Marcoh was abducted by the enemy," he continued as he pulled a book from his coat pocket and began to leaf through it. When he encountered a page with a piece of paper sticking out, he opened it to reveal a hand drawn picture of a woman amongst the page's notes.

"What?" When Mustang nodded, he hissed, "Damn it," as he sneered down at the book. "So they took him… and the information he was carrying." When Mustang raised a brow, he uttered, "The doctor said that he had previously made a Philosopher's Stone in the military's laboratories; the ones that were used in Ishval." Running his fingers agitatedly through his hair, he added, "The Philosopher's Stone, the military's dark side, the Homunculi … How are they all connected? Just what the hell happened in Ishval then?!"

Peering down at the picture in the book, Alphonse leaned forward and interjected, "Hey, that's Lust…"

"Yeah, yeah," Edward mumbled at the abrupt topic switch as he retracted his hand from his head and gave Mustang a critical glare. "You incinerated her, didn't you?"

"Of course I did," Mustang replied as he shoved his hands in his pockets. "She was reduced to nothing more than a charred husk by the time I was through."

Edward heard Al's armor shudder at the mention. His younger brother had given him a very detailed retelling of what went down below Laboratory 3. It was something that, Al had said, he'd hoped he would never see again…

"Let's just get back on topic," Mustang grumbled. "Because speaking of Ishval, I heard Scar's here. And considering the little show you've been putting on, I wouldn't be surprised if he showed up soon."

With a snort, Edward replied, "That's the whole point. I have to fight with him one more time. The Homunculi said that Al and I were valuable alive to them, so I'm confident one of them will show themselves once they hear about Scar showing up. And when one does, Al, Ling, and Lan Fan going to capture it and—" Cutting himself off, he jerked his head to glance at the direction the Lieutenant suddenly raised her gun to. Following her stare, he saw the very man they were speaking of standing meters away from them.

"At last you've decided to show yourself," Mustang growled as he took a step forward and pulled an ignition glove onto his hand.

Seeing this, Edward knocked his hand out of the way and snapped, "Wait! We need him alive to—"

"He's an impediment," Mustang snarled crudely as he pushed Edward away and snapped his fingers… Failing to produce a flame. The dark-haired man's eyes widened in confusion and he tried again, and then again, the sparks flickering from his gloves continually failing to ignite.

Seizing this opportunity, Scar slammed his right hand on the ground, causing it to shift and crack as a massive rift snaked toward them. The four of them barely managed to dodge the crack as it reached Hawkeye's car, flipping the vehicle onto its side as they dove in different directions.

Through the clearing dust, Edward then caught a glimpse of Scar as he rushed toward the Colonel, who had just regained his footing and had braced himself for the inevitable confrontation. As Edward rushed forward to intervene, he heard a loud "Sir!" Whipping his head around, he saw Hawkeye on her feet with her gun raised toward Scar, one eye closed to spare it from a small trickle of blood that had run down her brow from a small cut received in the initial attack.

"Wait," he cried again as her finger found the trigger and pulled. But like Mustang's snap, the gun's report too was absent. Not wanting to waste the opportunity, Edward managed to slam into Scar's side before he reached the otherwise defenseless Colonel, knocking the man off his balance. Standing between them as Scar regained his footing, Edward transmuted his automail arm into a blade as he sprinted toward the man.

He heard Al call out to the Colonel, possibly stopping him from snapping his fingers again… not that it even mattered. A few moments later, however, he heard the Colonel cry out in protest as Alphonse rejoined Edward, slapping his hands on the ground in unison as a multitude of columns rose from the ground and flew toward the Ishvalan man. When Scar dodged them and spun around a building's corner, Edward took the opportunity to ask, "What did you say to him?"

"I told him to keep the MPs off of our tails for a while," Alphonse offered as they rounded the corner, dodging Scar's next attack.

Catching his footing again as Scar grew defensive, Edward mumbled, "Let's hope he actually listens then."

* * *

"Do they honestly think they're going to catch one of us in such a ridiculous way?"

"Well," Wrath muttered, "Despite how asinine the whole plan is, he was correct in one thing: We do need to keep them safe at all costs."

"Right," Lust agreed as her eyes drifted over to him. "After all, we've already lost one sacrifice. To lose two more would devastate us." Reaching up and cleaning the blood from the already healed wound on her forehead with her glove, she added, "I'll go retrieve them while you go back to Headquarters and figure out why you were unable to produce any flames."

"You're going to need a car," he muttered as he glanced over at the overturned vehicle.

"Already got it," she murmured as she raised the gun and pointed it toward a car that had misguidedly turned down the narrow alleyway. "Military police! We require the use of this vehicle." The couple inside, frightened by the show of force, quickly threw their doors open and jumped out, backing away with their hands raised.

With the car now vacated, Lust ignored the couple and slid into the driver's seat, and slammed the door closed. "Once I have them in my possession, I'll bring them back to Central Command."

"Alright," Wrath agreed as he placed his hands on the window ledge and peered down at her. "Stay safe." The moment those words escaped his lips, he recoiled.

She turned toward him and arched a brow. "What was that?"

"Reminding you to turn the safety of your gun off next time," Wrath stated coolly as he pushed off from the car and took a few steps back.

She narrowed her eyes for a moment, but then shook her head and dismissed it, saying, "That's what I thought you said," as she turned the car's engine over and started it. After casting him one final dubious glance, she pulled away and began heading off in the direction of the various 'booms' and bursts of energy.

When she turned the corner and disappeared, Wrath growled and pushed Mustang back once more, promising himself that he would not let his guard down again.

* * *

As the ground beneath him began to break, Edward quickly leapt to the side, just barely missing another blow from the rogue Ishvalan man. With the distance between them closed, he used this to swing at Scar, managed to catch his left jaw with his right hook. Taking the brief opening Scar's stun left open, he swung again… only to feel something slam into his side. Tumbling to the ground, he heard Al cry out in surprise, followed moments later by the sound of his armor thudding next to him.

He whirled around and saw a small girl standing between them and Scar, her arms raised in defense. "Are you okay, Mr. Scar," she called as the man reached up and rubbed his jaw.

Before he could answer, the squealing of a car's tires filled their ears. Turning toward it, they watched as a car rounded the corner at breakneck speed, its driver pointing something out the window. When they skidded to a halt, a gunshot rang out, the bullet grazing Scar's shoulder.

Glaring at it, Edward recognized the driver as Hawkeye. His stomach dropped. He had trusted them-

Seizing the opportunity, the little girl let loose a flurry of throwing knives, burying them into a nearby water tower and pile of coal. "We'll retreat for now," she cried as she dragged her toe through the dirt to create an array. A moment later the array was activated, causing the water tower to explode and the coals to ignite, creating a thick cloud of smoke to envelop them.

Coughing and gagging, Edward tried to glance at the last place he saw the man, but to no avail. Within a matter of moments, he and the little girl were gone, leaving only Hawkeye, Alphonse, the military police, and him behind.

"Damn it," he growled as the smoke began to clear, confirming that they had left without a trace. Whirling around, he shot Hawkeye a look of disbelief as she stepped out of the car and eyed them warningly. Understanding, and begrudgingly accepting the look, he trudged toward the vehicle and climbed in, slamming the door shut behind him as Al got in on the other side.

"What the hell is Mustang's – oof!" Edward was unable to finish his sentence as Hawkeye stepped on the gas, the wheels skidding as the car quickly accelerated and took them away from the scene, avoiding questioning by the military police that had surrounded the area entirely. After she took a sharp turn and began to stabilize the speed, he grumbled, "What the hell is Mustang's problem? We had him!"

Hawkeye glanced in the rearview mirror, her eyes catching his for a brief moment before she peeled them away to focus on the road. For a moment, however, he thought he saw something… different? Upset enough as he was, he did not dwell on it for too long, dismissing it as a light's trick. "The Colonel has his reasons, Edward. You need to understand that we have to protect you."

"It's not like we're kids anymore," Edward countered bitterly as he leaned against the door and glared at the houses that they whizzed past. "We need to keep moving forward. So in order to do so we need to figure out what their plan is."

"Getting yourselves killed is not moving forward, Edward," Hawkeye replied without glancing in the mirror at the two boys. "Nor is that any way to figure out what they're planning."

Edward growled and slumped in his seat, but chose not to argue back. Hawkeye was being just as stubborn and narrow-minded as Mustang had been earlier, and he knew that he would be wasting his breath arguing with her alone… Instead, he glanced over at his younger brother to see that he was holding something. He squinted at the creature and grumbled, "Al, what is that?"

"I don't know," the suit of armor said as he looked down at the small black-and-white creature and tilted his head. "I found it just as we were running to the car."

"Well, you're not keeping it," Edward objected when animal began to snarl. Glaring down at it, he saw that the object of its aggression was mainly Hawkeye; the creature's small black eyes narrowed as it bared its teeth angrily toward the driver before it glanced back at and growled at the two boys. However, its eyes quickly returned to the blonde sniper.

Edward didn't blame it; he felt the same way at that moment.

* * *

"What the hell, Mustang," Edward seethed as he balled his hands into fists at his side. "We had him! If we had gotten just a few minutes, we could have lured one of them out and-"

"That's enough, Fullmetal," the Colonel chided as he leaned back in his chair. "I've already told you my reasoning. Just accept that your plan was flawed from the start."

"How," the teen shot back as he took a step toward the Colonel. "I explained it to you. I told you what we were doing. You didn't give us any time to—"

"Did you see the enemy, Fullmetal," the Colonel retorted hardly as he narrowed his eyes. "Because Hawkeye certainly didn't. All she saw was Scar and a small child that seemingly was accompanying him. There were no Homunculi on the scene."

"That's because you didn't give them a chance to find us," Edward cried. "If you had given us just a few more minutes, one of them would have been bound to show up."

"I highly doubt it," Mustang argued, his voice cracking with from his effort to keep it calm. "The fight went on for twenty minutes, including the time Miss Rockbell was involved. That time was plenty for them to show up, and yet they did not."

"Because you didn't give them—"

"I said that was enough," Mustang rumbled as he slammed his hands down on his desk and rose to his feet. "Just admit that you were wrong and that your recklessness would have gotten you killed."

"No way," Edward shot back. "Everything was laid out; we had a plan. Ling and Lan Fan were waiting and were going to ambush them from behind when they appeared. It wasn't a fool's plan, Mustang. We're trying to figure out what the hell's going on, so why the hell are you suddenly impeding us? Where's the damn trust you promised me?!"

Mustang remained silent, his unwavering glare focused on the young blond teen, who stood firm by matching its intensity. The longer the Colonel stood there in silence, the more agitated Edward became. The one person he thought he could trust to back him up on this was turning his back on him when he needed him most. He trusted him… and Mustang let them down. His eyes caught a slight movement by Mustang's side and he turned his attention toward it to see that his superior officer's fists were trembling. Casting his glare back at the Colonel, Edward taunted, "Aren't you going to say anything else? Let out that all that pent up rage you seem to have?"

The Colonel's eyes darkened for a moment, as though he were about to argue back. But then he scoffed and took a step back, masking every ounce of anger he had pent up inside him. "Instigating me won't do you any good, Fullmetal. I told you that that was the end of the discussion, so I am done discussing it."

"Fine," Edward shot back, casting the Colonel once last glare. "I'm done discussing it too, then." Whirling around, he stormed around his brother and past Hawkeye without giving her another glance. He threw the office door open and stomped into the hallway, turning his sights toward the entrance to Central Command. He heard Al offer a quick apology to the Colonel and Lieutenant before he followed him out.

"Where are we going, Brother," Alphonse asked when he jogged up to meet him.

"To see Winry and then find Ling and Lan Fan," Edward growled, prickling with bitterness from the fruitless 'conversation' with the Colonel. "For right now, I'm counting the Colonel out of whatever plans we have, because he sure as hell isn't helping us out anymore."

"There has to be a reason," Alphonse offered sympathetically. "I mean, they did just lose a member of their team. I think that really showed in their performance today. They're both suffering."

"Still," Edward argued as he shoved his hands in his pockets, "He's smart enough to know to put his damn emotions aside for a moment. He had the opportunity to do it, and now he's lost it. So I'm shutting him out."

* * *

"Ling Yao and Lan Fan," Lust mused as she glanced toward the door the two teens had vanished through moments earlier. "Those were the two Xingese immigrants that gave Envy and Gluttony trouble before, I believe."

"So Edward and Alphonse have befriended them," Wrath muttered as he sank down into his chair and dragged his fingers through his hair. "In that case, having them around will hinder us."

She hummed in reply before turning her focus to the window, noticing that darkness that had finally fallen. She chewed at the end of her thumb, tossing his words around for a few moments until they had sunk in. Then, the only solution she found plausible to their difficult situation sprang into her mind. "Well then," she said with a smile, "Perhaps we should pay them both a visit tonight…"


	3. Chapter 3

"Mr. Scar?"

Pulled out his thoughts by the young Xingese girl's voice, he turned toward her as she finished up closing his wound with her alkhaestral technique. Watching her, he waited for her to clarify her reason for interrupting him.

"Are you alright, Mr. Scar," she asked again, her large dark eyes full of concern.

"Yes," he muttered in return as his eyes wandered back to the healed skin of his shoulder. Reaching up, he glided his fingers over the new, smooth skin.

"There's something else on your mind," she pressed lightly as she leaned closer to him. Scowling at her, he tugged the sleeve of his shirt down and over the former wound as he got to his feet. Just as he was about to turn away and glare out at the setting sun, he heard her squeak, "Please, Mr. Scar, maybe I can help—"

"This isn't something you can help with," he muttered as he cast his glance toward her.

"How so," she asked as she padded forward and folded her hands behind her back, standing on her toes and peering up at him.

Realizing that she would not relent, Scar sighed through his nose and grumbled, "That woman did not have a single scratch on her."

"Who," May asked as she tilted her head, "You mean that soldier?"

"… Yes," he replied as he turned back toward the entrance to the building they had taken refuge in. "Before you arrived, I encountered the brothers at a different location… along with the Flame Alchemist and his subordinate. She sustained a minor cut to the forehead during that encounter and when she appeared again, it was gone."

"I didn't really notice anything," May replied as she shrugged her shoulders up and down.

"Exactly," Scar responded.

"So… what does that mean," she asked, still trying to understand what he was getting at.

After organizing his thoughts and theories for a few moments, he uttered, "I'm not sure yet."

* * *

All thoughts about the Colonel and Lieutenant were temporarily pushed aside when Edward saw Winry's face. Saw the dejection and sadness and hurt in her eyes when she asked him how long they had known about her parents. And when he told her and explained everything to her in that small interrogation room they temporarily housed her in, he could see her shoulders sag and feel the disappointment and distrust radiating off of her.

The car ride back to her hotel had proved to be more awkward still.

But when they had walked into her hotel and she received that call from Garfiel, he saw a change in her. Her mood instantly lifted the moment she discovered how many people were waiting for her back in Rush Valley. And when she decided that she was going back there, he watched her completely transform into the girl he knew and—Well, he didn't need to say that out loud…

Leaving her for now to pack her things with the promise of being back in an hour or so, the two brothers reluctantly left the building and began to head down the road.

The further away from the hotel they walked, the more Edward's thoughts turned from Winry toward the rest of the day, now that he knew she would be alright…

"You know something, Al," he said as last as they headed out into the darkness, "I've started thinking about what happened today, and something just doesn't add up."

"What is it, Brother," the suit of armor asked as he looked down at his older sibling.

"I just can't get the Colonel and Lieutenant's behaviors out of my head," he muttered as he shoved his hands in his pockets. "I mean, sure, Mustang can be incompetent as hell. And maybe he is a bit off because of what happened to Havoc, but the Lieutenant…" Looking up at Al, his expression serious, he gravely uttered, "The Lieutenant _never_ forgets to turn off her gun's safety."

"You don't think that with everything that's happened that she wouldn't be affected like the Colonel?"

"No," Edward replied shortly, definitively. "It's like second nature to her. She doesn't just forget, Al."

"So what do you think that means?"

Looking back down the darkened road before them, Edward shrugged his shoulders up and down and muttered, "I don't know-"

"Heeeeey!"

Both brothers stopped as Ling and Lan Fan dropped down in front of them. "There you two are," Ling exclaimed as he cocked his head slightly. "We've been looking everywhere for you two."

"Sorry," Edward grumbled in reply, "We ran into a few issues. Colonel Bastard got in the way and outright refused to help us out."

"Seriously," Ling asked as he folded his arms across his chest. "I thought you said he was on our side."

"That's what I thought too," Edward admitted with a tinge of bitterness in his voice. "But it doesn't seem like it right now. So for the time being, I'm not telling him anything."

Ling nodded thoughtfully at Edward's revelation. "So what do you want to do then? We didn't sense anything while we were waiting earlier."

"I think," Edward began, "That they might move around at night. What if we split up and searched under the veil of darkness? Signal each other in some way when we confront one of them."

"We could do that," Ling agreed as he shoved his hand into his pocket, producing a small, paper-covered object seconds later. Holding it out for the brothers to see, he explained, "This is a flare. If you pull this string here," he demonstrated as he gingerly held the small rope between his two fingers, "And point it toward the sky, it'll shoot off and produce a quick, bright flash. It has the capacity to fly above the buildings in the city, and is bright enough to be seen for miles."

As Lan Fan began to remove her mask, she began, "My Prince—"

Turning to her, he smiled widely and said, "We can handle them."

Shaking her head, she clarified, "But can they—"

With a loud huff, Edward strode forward and snatched the flare from Ling's grasp. "Of course we can take them," he grumbled, "The past few times we encountered them, we didn't exactly know what to expect. Now that we have a better idea of their capabilities, we're more prepared."

"Alright," Ling responded with a firm nod, "Then we'll split up and search. How about you two take the western part of the city and we'll take the south, so at least we're near each other in the event that one of us finds something."

"Sounds good to me," Edward agreed as he stuffed the flare into his jacket pocket. "If we see anything, we'll let you two know."

"Same," Ling replied as he raised his fist in the air, inviting Edward to bump his against it.

When Edward accepted the gesture, he added, "We'll see you two soon then."

"Right," Ling agreed with a grin, "See you soon."

* * *

"I don't understand," Wrath muttered as he dragged his fingers through his black hair. "I had what I needed to produce the spark, so why wasn't I able to create any flames?"

"It is because you yourself do not possess the knowledge," Father explained as he rubbed his chin thoughtfully. "Colonel Mustang is the one that holds the key to flame alchemy. You are inhabiting his body but not his mind, my child."

"What do you suggest I do in order to possess such knowledge?"

For a moment, Father genuinely uncertain as he mulled over the dilemma in his mind. He wanted the element of flame alchemy on his side; the art was too beautiful and dangerous to ignore, but the manipulation, task, and difficulty of it was extreme. Roy Mustang was necessary in obtaining that knowledge. "You say that his soul still dwells within you," he asked at last.

Wrath nodded. "It is. If anything, his voice is a dull whisper amongst the souls that actually remain inside my Philosopher's Stone, but he still remains, adamant in refusing to hand over his knowledge."

"Have you tried incorporating his soul into the Stone?"

"I have," Wrath replied with a hint of bitterness in his voice, "But still he continues to fight back."

Father pursed his lips together for a moment, his thoughts undoubtedly turning to the "problems" the two Homunculi were facing. While they were able to be kept at bay, it seemed that there would occasionally be a small slip-up, where one of the two would push to the surface for a brief moment, but every time they were easily reigned in and pushed back by the stronger force that dwelt within them. "The process of incorporating a single soul into a Stone could be very time-consuming," Father explained. "Bit by bit it can be drawn in until it is fully integrated. And," he warned, "Once that happens, the soul and all of its knowledge will be lost to the multitude of souls within the Stone."

"Then what can I do," Wrath asked as he furrowed his brows. "Losing the knowledge of Flame Alchemy could be a blow to our efforts. And maintaining the Colonel's image could prove too difficult if the renowned "Flame Alchemist" suddenly loses the ability to perform his namesake."

"Very valid points," Father muttered as he continued to eye Wrath, his thoughts likely turning to other possible alternatives. After a few beats, his eyes widened as an idea crossed his mind. "However, if you do begin to slowly incorporate his soul into the Stone, you will gain his knowledge, which can be used to your advantage. His Gate too would become yours."

"How would I go about doing that," Wrath asked incredulously, his doubt clear by his tone. "He is even resisting that. I am confident that I will be able to absorb his soul, but the initial grasp is proving to be difficult."

"You leave that to me to figure out," Father reassured. "As soon as I devise a way for you to take hold of him, I will instruct you on how to do so.

"And as for you," he said as he turned toward Lust, who was patiently standing at attention a few steps from Wrath, "I would like for you to do the same. We cannot afford another slip-up similar to the one that happened earlier. While the Lieutenant's mind is reflexed and attuned for pulling a gun in a firefight, you are not.

"So once I discover a method for successfully taking hold of their souls, despite their wills, I will inform you on how to proceed."

"I look forward to it," Lust mused as she crossed her arms. "It will be beneficial having the Lieutenant's memories to play off of, especially considering the notion that we were blindly thrown into this."

"Fancy seeing you here, Colonel. Or should I say, _General_ Mustang?"

Upon hearing the new voice, Wrath turned to see a dark haired, older man in military garb approaching them. His most defining feature, however, was an eyepatch over his left eye. Raising a brow toward the man, Wrath muttered, "Always a pleasure, _Fuhrer Bradley._ "

"Heh," the man scoffed bitterly as a series of red sparks illuminated him, "I wouldn't necessarily say it's a pleasure." As the alchemical energy enveloped him, they watched as the tall-statured man began to shrink and change, green hair sprouting from his scalp and replacing the black locks that adorned his head. As they began to recede, a smaller, violet-eyed figure stood in the place of the 'Fuhrer.'

Unfazed by the change, Wrath muttered, "And what did you mean by 'General,' Envy?"

Grabbing a newspaper it had tucked under its arm, Envy tossed it onto the ground at Wrath's feet. Glaring down at it, Wrath saw a picture of Roy Mustang and his entire team on the front with the words _Incredible Feat; Rising Colonel named as Youngest Appointed General_ printed above it. As Wrath looked up from it, Envy grumbled, "That should be enough to give you the power you need to move freely without being pinned down with your former title. It'll be all over the press tomorrow, and the appointment will happen within the next week or so.

"And the sooner that happens, the sooner I can 'keel over' and get out of this damn position," it growled as it placed its hands on its hips. "If you hadn't gone and gotten yourself nearly fried to a crisp because of your insistence on talking to Lust, then I wouldn't have to be playing dress-up." With a deep shudder, it added, "And I wouldn't have to deal with that sniveling, pathetic wife of the former Wrath either."

"All of this is necessary, Envy," Father gently chided the grumbling Homunculus. "I require you to perform a few more tasks before ending your role as the former Wrath."

"Do you have any candidates for the position of Fuhrer," Wrath asked as he eyed Father.

With his eyes still fixed on Envy, Father nodded and said, "I have a few lined up for the position that I am currently considering. We must tread lightly as we work to make the transition as smooth and believable as possible."

"I know, I know," Envy replied with a huff as it crossed its arms. "I'll keep it up as long as needed, but not a second further."

"Rest assured that that will be the case," Father soothed as he nodded toward Envy. Turning his focus toward Wrath, he then said, "With your new position as General, I expect you to keep all others that are associated with us focused and loyal."

"Of course, Father," Wrath obliged as he dipped his head in agreement.

"Good," the bearded man muttered as he acknowledged Wrath's acceptance of the task. Just as he was about to say something else in addition, he raised his eyes and glared into the darkness. After a few moments of his eyes flickering back and forth, searching the blackness in front of him, he murmured, "It seems that we have a few visitors."

"Would you like for us to dispose of them," Wrath asked as he took a step forward.

"I would," Father answered, though he raised his hand to Wrath as a signal to stop. "Lust," he called, beckoning the blonde-haired woman forward, "I would like for you and Gluttony to seek out these intruders and eliminate them."

"Yes, Father," she replied as she turned on her heels. Looking back at the Homunculus that was eyeing her eagerly, a large grin plastered on his face, she cooed, "Come along, Gluttony. Dinner's ready."

"And you," he added as he turned back to Wrath, "I would like for you to stay behind for the time being, until we can figure out a way to harness the Colonel's Flame Alchemy."

"Understood," Wrath replied, though his eyes never wavered from the blonde as she parted ways from them, heading into the darkness as the Colonel's protests echoed deep within him. But before she disappeared from his line of sight completely, he saw her turn back toward him, pleading brown eyes silently begging him to help her.

He knew who she was looking for, and he would not let the Colonel slip up again. Raising one of his hands, he threw her a careless wave, signaling to her that she would not receive what she wanted, watching her expression crumble as Lust once again took control.

* * *

"Did you sense that, Lan Fan," her Prince called as he halted on top of the building they had just landed on.

"Yes," she replied as she turned back toward the division between the two buildings, recalling the strong presence she felt just moments ago.

"It kind of felt like that bigger one we encountered a few days ago," he mused as he stopped by her side.

Lan Fan nodded in agreement. "Although I didn't see anything when we leapt from the building. Is it possible that the being is beneath the street?"

Ling's brows raised in realization. "That would make a lot of sense; how they're able to move without being seen more readily." Taking a few steps past her, he planted a foot on the edge of the building and looked down. "I can still sense it too. It's close…" Without further warning, he leapt from the building and landed in the alleyway below.

Seeing this, Lan Fan immediately followed, landing just a few feet from him. As he made his way over to a manhole cover that was partially covered by debris and garbage, she quickly stepped past him and knelt down next to it, blocking him from moving further. Understanding her silent request to remain back, he did.

Taking hold of the metal cover, Lan Fan heaved and pulled it away, revealing a ladder that descended into the darkness below. Moments after removing it, a strong, familiar aura seeped from the hole. Furrowing her brows as she squinted into the darkness, she muttered, "It's down there…"

"Let's check it out then."

Before she could even object in order to remind her of their promise to the Elric brothers, the Prince had already plunged himself into the darkness. After hearing him make landfall onto the concrete below, she followed, landing inches from him.

"My Prince—"

"Shhh," he commanded softly as he turned to glare down the dimly-lit tunnel. When she stopped and shut her mouth, he whispered, "Do you sense that?"

She nodded in agreement as her hand slowly wandered down to her belt, gripping one of the kunai she had stowed in a utility pocket. Raising it up to chin level, she stood ready as her eyes scanned around, looking for its source.

"There you are," she heard the Prince growl as he raised his hands and took on a fighting stance. "We've been looking for you." Casting her glance in the direction he was staring, she saw the robust monster they had encountered days before lumbering toward them, globs of saliva dangling from its lips.

The gluttonous being's lips pulled back, curling upward as he said, "Goody, goody. My food has come to _me_."

"Get ready, Lan Fan," the Prince murmured as his eyes wandered over to her. "We can't underestimate this one—"

"Well, well," a voice purred, breaking through the tense air that wafted around them, "What do we have here?"

Turning toward the voice, Lan Fan resumed her fighting stance as a blonde-haired woman emerged from the darkness. Eyeing her warily, she looked the woman up and down, noting that aside from the Amestrian blue military pants she wore, the rest of her clothes appeared civilian: a black, short-sleeved turtleneck and black wrist-length gloves. Still, she could not let her guard down. "I have no quarrels with an ordinary—"

Before she could finish her sentence or make a move, a sudden burst of pain erupted throughout her chest and arm, causing her to cry out as the grip on her kunai loosened and sent the metal weapon into the stream of water that ran beside their feet. He heard the Prince scream her name, but she was too focused on the long black spears that protruded from her shoulder, running back to the woman's outstretched hand.

Her lips turned upward in a gleeful smile as she retracted the claws, the woman mused, "Who said anything about 'ordinary'?"

Reaching up to grasp her shoulder as she stumbled back, Lan Fan tried desperately to come up with a plan, something, to ensure that the prince—

Suddenly feeling herself being lifted, she found herself flung over his shoulder, being whisked away from the two monsters as the larger one shook off its shock and began to pursue them.

* * *

Taking a step in the direction that Gluttony and the two Xingese children ran off in, Lust was surprised to see that her body would not cooperate. With a low and frustrated growl, she tried to move her feet and found that they would not budge.

Raising her arm to eye level, the only appendage of hers that seemed to still be able to move, she was disgusted to discover that her gloved and bloodied hand was trembling uncontrollably.

"Damn you," she hissed through clenched teeth as she reached up with her other hand and grasped her wrist, trying to push her hand down. "You will not win this."

And still the Lieutenant continued to struggle against Lust, clawing and fruitlessly fighting her way toward the surface. At last, however, when she began to lose her will and had begun to quiet, the Homunculus was finally able to rein her in, pushing her back down into the abyss within her that was filled with endless cries.

Her will was a lot stronger than Lust had previously thought. She needed to remain guarded, lest it happen a third time in a single night…

* * *

"Alright, I'm going to draw them away-"

"No," Lan Fan yelped at last. "My Prince, please, I must-"

"Lan Fan," Ling muttered, his tone serious and commanding, "I am _ordering_ you to stay here."

Hearing this 'order,' Lan Fan paused, giving Ling enough time to nestle her into a small drainpipe he came upon.

"Wait until I return, Lan Fan, and don't you think for one second to try anything reckless, okay?"

"But My Prince—"

"That's an order," he answered hardly, cutting her off once more. Pulling his bloodied hands out from beneath her, he smeared the excess blood onto his clothes for the monster to track. "As soon as I draw them away and lose them, I'll come back and get you out of here."

Before she could even argue and disagree, however, he was already back on his feet and running in the direction they had just came, his footsteps becoming increasingly quieter as he moved away from her. When she was sure that he had gone, she pushed herself upright and stared into the darkness of the small tunnel he had placed her in. If it were a drain, then that meant it led to the outside.

Pushing through the pain and agony, she eased herself forward and down into it. She had to get outside as quickly as possible, because if she couldn't help the Prince, she knew two people that _could_.

After a few minutes of dancing on the edge of consciousness and unconsciousness, she was finally able to see a light. Reaching into her belt pocket, she grasped the object she needed.

"I'm sorry, my Prince," she wheezed as she pulled herself up to the edge of the drain and raised the bloodied object in her hand, "But I must protect you… at all costs." Grabbing the pull string between her teeth, she yanked it and aimed the flare toward the sky. A few moments later, it ignited and rocketed into the air, exploding just above the skyline.

* * *

"That flare," Edward gasped as he watched the sparkles and light fade from the black sky that hung over Central before taking off in its direction, "It's Ling and Lan Fan! They found something!"

After taking a few more steps forward, he heard Al fall in sync with his steps, his heavy and metallic footfalls echoing as they raced down the street and toward the source of the light. Whizzing around a corner, they saw the Xingese girl sprawled out on the ground, hanging out of a pipe that was jutting out from the ground.

"Lan Fan," Alphonse gasped as he dashed forward and fell to his knees in front of her.

"Please," she whispered as she winced, causing a rush of blood to pour from wounds she had recently sustained to pool onto the ground, "Leave me. You must find… my Prince…"

"No way are we leaving you," Alphonse cried as he gathered her in his arms, just as a new rush of blood trickled from her wound.

"Damn it," Edward growled through clenched teeth as he reached up and stuck his flesh hand beneath her arm, "Her artery might be nicked. If we don't hurry, she'll bleed out."

When Alphonse gasped at the revelation, Lan Fan wearily nodded her head and murmured, "Which is why you must… Must find-"

"No way in hell are we leaving you to die," Edward snarled. "Don't be an idiot."

Just as Lan Fan opened her mouth to protest, Edward continued, "Can you hold her comfortably while keeping pressure under her arm, Al?"

The suit of armor contemplated it for a moment, fumbling around for a moment in an attempt to readjust the Xingese bodyguard in his arms, eliciting a loud gasp from her. "I can't," he wailed, "Not without hurting her or putting too much pressure."

"I'll have to do with you then," Edward replied as he increased the amount of pressure he applied to her underarm.

"Go where, " Alphonse cried, "Where can we possibly go where they can treat her? She's here illegally and—"

"We're going exactly where you would think," Edward answered, "To the hospital."

* * *

After curling his automail hand into a fist, Edward began to pound frantically on the steel door they found around back after circumnavigating around the hospital. But after a solid minute of pounding, which left a deep dent in the door, he realized that who he had hoped to find was most likely not there. Just as he was about to pull away, he heard someone unlatch the door. As he took a step back, it swung open, revealing a very disgruntled Dr. Knox.

Without a word, he chewed on his toothpick and eyed Alphonse first, seeing the wounded girl in the suit of armor's arms. Then, when they wandered down to Edward, he muttered, "Come in."

Not wasting another moment, the two brothers allowed themselves to be ushered inside by the doctor. "Over there," he grumbled as he pointed to a vacant steel table over in the corner of the morgue. Eagerly obliging, Alphonse hurried over to it and carefully laid Lan Fan onto the cold steel, the sudden shock to her body causing her to gasp.

"Oh, she's still alive," Dr. Knox asked as he stopped beside Alphonse, looking down at the young girl with newfound curiosity.

"Of course she's alive," Edward contended agitatedly. "Why would we bring you—"

"Because I'm a mortician, Fullmetal," the doctor muttered as he rubbed his chin, his eyes never leaving the Xingese girl before him. "I haven't practiced on a living, breathing human in years. Why not take her to the guys upstairs."

"We can't," Edward replied exasperatedly, "She and Ling are here illegally. As soon as they fix her up they'll send her back. You helped with the Maria Ross cover up; can't you at least try?!"

"That's a human life you're asking me to toy with, Fullmetal," Knox warned. "If I make a mistake, it could cost her her life."

"What other choice is there, though," Edward argued as the doctor leaned over Lan Fan and began to look at her wounds. "Please, you have to try—"

"Alright, alright," Knox interrupted as he pressed his palm against the wound beneath her arm. "I'll fix her up, but you'll need to come back to my place with me after I stabilize her. The next doctor is due here to cover the next shift in about thirty minutes."

Hearing that, Edward bit his lower lip, his mind turning to back to Ling. Seeing his hesitance, Dr. Knox muttered, "I need you there, Edward. You have 'feeling' hands. Unfortunately, Alphonse doesn't. He won't be able to apply the right amount of pressure at the right moments."

"Brother," Alphonse quipped as he placed his gloved hand on Edward's shoulder, causing the older Elric to turn back toward him, "I could always go and—"

"No way, Al," he snapped back, "After what happened with Lust before it would be stupid to go alone."

"Then Brother, what do we-"

"I guess," Edward murmured as he turned back to Lan Fan, whose breathing quickened upon being handled by Dr. Knox, "We'll have to put our trust in Ling, and hope that he can hold on until we get to him." Looking up at Knox, his face and tone serious, he added, "I'll help you with Lan Fan, but the moment she's stable and able to be left strictly in your care, I'm going to go and find Ling."

The doctor eyed Edward for a few moments, searching the boy's expression. After letting out a low groan, he grumbled, "Fair enough. Now help me gather these supplies so that we can move her to my truck."

* * *

"Damn it," Ling hissed as he leapt down from the ladder he had scaled moments before. Glaring up into the darkness, he tried to see the manhole cover he attempted to remove, trying to see if he could identify any bolts or screws that would have prevented him from opening it. But before he could even begin to wonder if it was because it was purposefully blockaded or something different, the sound of the large monster brought him back to reality.

He had given up fighting it minutes ago, seeing that every blow he landed was almost instantaneously regenerated, leaving the beast rejuvenated and ready to keep fighting. He had tried a small hand bomb he kept on his person at all times, but that had caused an explosion that almost collapsed the tunnel onto himself. For now, he would have to continue running to avoid being buried alive… or eaten. And then there was the other they saw, the one that had given off the aura of a human, had yet to show herself again…

Taking off in the opposite direction of where he heard it coming from, he ran deeper and deeper into the tunnels, keeping his eyes peeled for any signs of a way out. But after running in that direction for a few hundred meters, he saw a dim light ahead of him. At the very least, he decided, he would be able to see more than what he could at that moment if he headed there…

Despite hearing the glutton's steps thundering behind him, he pushed himself to keep going until he broke through the darkness and bolted into a large room. Thrown off by the sudden change in scenery, he slowed for a moment, only to be tackled from behind by the giant monster that had been pursuing him. With a loud cry he crashed to the ground, the monster towering hungrily over him.

"So this is the one that managed to infiltrate my home?"

Hearing the voice, Ling turned his head, seeing an older, bearded man clothed in white slowly walking down from the throne on which he stood. Stopping just short of them, his golden eyes wandered down to Ling, who scowled up at him.

"Who are you," he demanded as he fought against the crushing weight of the monster on his back.

"That is nothing to concern yourself with," the man soothed. "After all, you are of no concern to me."

"You should be concerned," Ling growled as he continued to struggle, "Because I've got someone looking for me. And when they realize I'm gone, they'll come looking, and they'll find you."

"And I will deal with them as I plan on handling you," the man replied nonchalantly.

"I don't think—" Ling began as he turned his head, trying to angle himself in a way to slip out from the beast's steel grasp. What he saw next, however, caused him to interrupt himself. Furrowing his brows as the figure stepped forth from the shadows; he focused his attention on him and narrowed his eyes. "You," he growled, "You're that Colonel Edward is subordinate to."

Smirking back, the dark-haired man crossed his arms and said, "So you've heard of me."

"Yeah," Ling snarled, "I've heard of you alright. Heard how you completely turned on Edward and Alphonse when they needed you earlier… and now I know why."

"Ah yes, Edward," the man replied as he crouched down in front of Ling, giving him a better view of him, "The boy that would not give up."

"So you've been working for them? How long has that been going on," Ling pressed as a feeling of disgust began to rise within him. It suddenly made sense. The reason why the Colonel refused to help Edward was because he was working for them!

"Oh, not too long, actually," the Colonel quipped as he cocked his head. "But after they offered him a certain something, the Colonel could hardly refuse."

"What are you talking about," he growled back. "You aren't making any sense. What were you offered?"

"Let's just leave it at that. Something that could not be refused…"

A sudden realization hitting him, Ling gasped. "Is it what you've been seeking too? The Philosopher's Stone?"

Seeming genuinely surprised by this, the Colonel's brows rose for a moment before he cleared his visage and concealed his shock.

"So I'll take that as a 'yes,' then," Ling continued. "And if that's the case, I want in on the Stone too."

The Colonel scoffed as he looked up, the sound of footsteps approaching them distracted him. Turning his head too, he saw that the blonde woman they encountered earlier was approaching them.

"I see you managed to catch him," she murmured as violet eyes wandered down to glare at Ling.

"We did, though I'm surprised you didn't finish the job," the Colonel replied.

"He gave me the slip," she replied bluntly as she folded her arms across her chest. "At least Gluttony was able to keep up with him."

Seeing that the two of them were distracted for a moment, and praying that it meant the beast on his back was too, Ling tried again to twist out from beneath it. Feeling his shift, however, the bloated monster readjusted his grip and held him tighter still.

"Can I eat him, please," he heard it whine excitedly in its shrill tone. "I'm so hungry."

"Of course-," the woman began, though she was cut off by the older man.

"Hold on for just a moment," he muttered as he stepped over to Ling and Gluttony, looking down at the Xingese man. Raising his brows, he murmured, "Do you believe you can accept my Greed?"

"If you mean a Philosopher's Stone, you bet I will," Ling challenged as he raised his eyes to look up at the man.

Just as the man took a final step toward him, another voice interrupted him. "You can't be serious," the familiar green-haired monster growled, "You'd be willing to use another one to house one of us?"

"Yes," the man replied as he bent down next to Ling, "It requires less energy than having to create a whole new body for Greed. And," he added as he held out his palm, "So far it's proven to be very beneficial."

It sighed begrudgingly, but did not argue again. Turning his attention back to Ling, the man ran his fingernail across his cheek, stinging him as he cut through his skin. As he held his outstretched palm above Ling, the man once again said, "If you are able to accept my Greed, then you will have the power you are seeking." Then, without any hesitation or reluctance, he tipped his hand, causing a viscous, gelatinous red orb that had appeared on it to fall onto his cheek and the wound that was inflicted there moments before.

Seconds later he felt it dig itself beneath his skin, and the pain that followed exploded within him was equivalent to being caught in the middle of countless hand bombs going off at once. Slamming is eyelids shut, he let loose a horrifying scream as a force took hold of him and plunged him into darkness.

* * *

For three hours they had to endure it, the muted screams of agony that the Xingese bodyguard attempted to choke down and keep behind the cloth stuffed between her teeth. For three hours they endured the blood that seemed to endlessly flow from her wounds as Dr. Knox tried frantically to stitch them together. And for three hours they were left to silently wonder about the status of the Xingese prince they were forced to leave behind…

When Dr. Knox at last pulled the cloth out from her mouth, Lan Fan immediately turned to Edward, her glassy stare fixating herself on him. "It was… one of those demons," she wheezed as she feebly grasped at her shoulder.

"What did it look like," Edward pressed as he leaned over her. If she was willing and able to provide the information now, then he'd take it, especially if that meant it could lead them to which one of them did this… and lead them to Ling. When her eyes fluttered shut, he demanded it again, more loudly this time.

"Brother," Al started as he put a hand on Edward's shoulder. "Please, she needs to rest and—"

"She," Lan Fan managed to gasp weakly, "She had light hair… and… and claws…"

"Claws," he echoed back loudly as Lan Fan's breaths began to slow. "She?! Lan Fan, what else?!"

"Brother," Al demanded as he pulled Edward away from Lan Fan's side. "She can't answer anymore. Look at her!"

"He's right," Dr. Knox growled as he looked up over the rims of his glasses, "She's not fit to even bee speaking right now." When Alphonse began to lead him away, he heard the doctor add, "I'll be out in once I finish giving her morphine dose."

Allowing himself to be guided out by Al, Edward begrudgingly stomped into the living area and curled his flesh hand into a fist. Slamming it against the wall nearest the front door, he leaned against it and growled, "This doesn't make any sense?!"

"You mean what she said," Al asked as he came to a stop a few feet from Edward.

"Yes," he replied as he turned around to face his brother. "She? Claws? If it weren't for the light-hair, it would almost sound like Lust," Edward growled as he folded his arms across his chest and leaned back against the wall. "And besides; Mustang said he fried her… You saw it yourself." When Alphonse nodded, Edward cast his glare toward the floor. "So does that mean it's another one?"

"It might be," his brother replied as he too focused his soul-fire eyes onto the ground. "I mean, we've met a couple of them; it's definitely possible that there are more."

"Good, you're still here."

Looking back up, Edward watched as Dr. Knox walked back into the room, the doctor wiping his dirtied hands on a cloth towel he had in the room moments before. "I was afraid you had left after that little tantrum."

"So what's the verdict," Edward muttered.

"Whole arm's gotta come off," Knox offered bluntly. "The muscles and tendons are too warped and torn to do much else with it. And even if they were still intact, the blood supply to that arm has been cut off too long."

Feeling his face pale, Edward gaped at the man. "Are… are you serious?"

Knox shook his head side to side and removed the toothpick from between his teeth. "I wouldn't lie to you about this, kid." When Edward did not immediately respond, he added, "I already talked to her about the idea and she agreed with it. Said you know an automail mechanic that can fix her up. She's out of the red for now, but we'd definitely need to do it within the twenty-four hours."

Edward clenched his jaw and balled his hands into fists at his side as he fully appreciated the words the doctor was saying, so casually in fact. Lan Fan was going to lose her arm, and already she was requesting that Winry take a look at it and set her up with a prosthetic.

"Brother," Al began again in an attempt to console him, "We have to—"

"We need to go and find Ling," Edward growled agitatedly as he ran his fingers through his hair, his mind reeling. "Lan Fan is at least out of the red. We need to get out there before the sun fully rises so that we can slip back into the tunnels undetected. We have to tell him, bring him back here to see her."

Alphonse was about to respond when a loud _bang_ against the door interrupted him. Furrowing his brows, Edward strode over to the door and opened it, squinting out into the darkness in an attempt to find the source of the noise. When he didn't see anything, he stepped inside and began to close the door when he glanced down and saw that a rolled up newspaper was lying on the front step. Bending over, he grabbed it and brought it back inside with him.

"Newspaper, right," Dr. Knox grumbled as he eyed the bundle of papers in Edward's hand.

"Yeah," Edward answered as he closed the distance between them and handed it over to the doctor.

"Excellent," the older man mumbled as he began to unroll it and separate the pages, "I could use this to help cover the floor in the bedroom. Catch any extra blood that decides to escape when it's time..."

When he began to wander back toward the room he housed Lan Fan in, Edward and Alphonse followed a few steps behind him. Kneeling down, the doctor began to spread it out on the floor beneath her bed when a familiar picture caught Edward's eye.

Falling to his knees, he snatched it off of the floor and held it close to his face, using what little light was available to visualize the image on the front. After a few moments of scanning it, he recognized the faces of the people on the front: Mustang's team. Furrowing his brows, his eyes wandered up to the top of the picture, skimming the title of the article it was attached to. _'General'_ Mustang?! He had never mentioned—

"What's that," Alphonse asked as he bowed forward and eyed the newspaper curiously.

"I don't believe it," Edward murmured as he continued to stare down at the paper. "Mustang… He's being promoted to a General?!"

"He is," Al squeaked as he clasped his hands together. "But isn't that a good thing?"

"I guess," Edward answered as he flipped the page open and got to his feet, scanning across the article as it continued onto the next page. "He just never mentioned—"

A loud gasp interrupted him, prompting him to stop and look up at its source. Surprised to see that Lan Fan's eyes were open again, Edward lowered the newspaper and took a step toward her. "How are you feeling," he soothed.

She, however, seemed to preoccupied to answer as her eyes darted down to the paper in his hands.

Furrowing his brows, he lifted it again and began to hold it when she quivered, "T-there…"

"You mean this," he asked as he sat down on the chair beside her bed and turned the paper around, facing the picture of Mustang's team toward her.

Gasping and panting, she bobbed her head as she raised a trembling finger on her non-severed hand, brushing it over the picture. Angling it toward him so that he could see better, he glanced at her once more to invite her to do it again. Mustering her strength once more to oblige, she lifted her hand again and pressed the tip of her index finger on one of the occupants of the photograph.

When her strength left her and her hand began to fall, she whispered, "That's… the monster."

Behind him, Edward heard Al gasp and say something about it not being true or whatnot, but his mind was already elsewhere, trying to process what Lan Fan had just revealed.

Because the person that she had just identified as one of the Homunculi was First Lieutenant Hawkeye.

* * *

 **A/N:** _So I revealed a bit on how Fuhrer Bradley died, and will hopefully include the rest in the next update. Just sit tight; it'll come…_

 _Next chapter will also have Team Mustang and Rebecca Catalina._

 _Hope you enjoyed this update! Thank you for the favorites, follows, and reviews! You are all so wonderful!_


	4. Chapter 4

After he had finally come to grips with what Lan Fan had said, Edward looked back up at her to search her paled visage, hoping, praying, that there would be a shred of doubt in her eyes. Instead, what he saw was self-assurance and definitiveness. She was confident with her answer.

"Lan Fan," he began again, stumbling over his denial, "Are you sure? Are you absolutely positive?" Before she could answer he turned the sheet back around and squinted at the picture. The lighting wasn't perfect and… And it wasn't the clearest picture they could have used. It would be easy to misidentify someone based on that alone!

His heart dropped, however, when she answered with a weak nod. Her expression silently begged for him the turn the paper around once more. Obeying her silent order he turned it around, watching as her eyes scanned down to the picture once more. After another minute or so of analyzing it, she looked up at him again, her determination once again shining through the pain.

"I'm… positive," she managed to utter through quick, ragged breaths. Despite seeing his forlorn expression, she continued, "Had… had hair pinned up and… and military pants…"

"So you're sure," he asked once more, his escaping voice barely over a whisper.

"… Yes," she murmured as she closed her eyes and sighed heavily, the medication in her system slowly beginning to take effect.

"… Okay," Edward said at last, slowly getting back to his feet. Without looking back at Al or Knox, he trudged out of the room and down the hallway, heading toward the front door. Just as he grasped the handle, he felt a massive hand clamp down on his shoulder. Without looking back, he muttered, "We have go and get to the bottom of this, Al."

"Brother," the suit of armor uttered, "There has to be an explanation for this!"

"Right," he agreed as he turned the knob, "And that's why we have to go now and-"

"Hold on a second."

Snapping his head up and around, he watched as Dr. Knox walked into the room, drying his hands on a towel. Focusing his hardened eyes on the two boys, he muttered, "You two can't leave now. I have a patient here, remember?"

Letting go of the doorknob and taking a step toward him, Edward argued, "But you heard what she said back there! There's something going on and we have to go and figure it out."

"I heard what she said, Fullmetal, but I don't think you should be jumping to conclusions so quickly. Newspaper photographs are grainy at best and half the time you can't even tell who the hell's in the damn picture," the doctor answered bluntly. "It could easily be a misidentification."

"And what if it isn't," Edward fired back. "What if we've stumbled onto something big? We need to at least go and see the Colonel and Lieutenant because maybe they've at least heard about where Ling might be." When the doctor opened his mouth to counter back, Edward continued, "I have a friend that's still in Central that is more than qualified to help you out. I'll call her and have her come here to help for a few hours while we're gone. We just need to know…"

Dr. Knox closed his mouth and formed a thin line with his lips before opening it to speak again. "If you can get your friend here within the next hour I'll let you go, but no later than that. We need to get this done today."

"I know," he mumbled. "Where's your phone?"

"In the living room," Dr. Knox grumbled as he thrust his thumb over his shoulder in the direction of the phone line. "Just keep me updated on what's going on. I'm going to check on the girl."

When the doctor turned away from them and made his way back toward the bedroom, Edward strode over to the phone and picked it up, pressing it against his ear as the dial tone bombarded his hearing. After tossing his words around in his mind, he finally came to a decision on what he was going to say as he punched the number of her hotel in. When the operator answered and redirected his call, he held his breath and waited.

Winry answered on the third ring with a tired, _"Hello?"_

Swallowing the lump of tension that had formed in his throat, he muttered, "Hey…"

 _"Edward? Where have you—"_

"I'm sorry," he muttered quickly into the receiver, "I don't have a lot of time to explain, but do you remember Lan Fan?"

 _"I do, yes,"_ Winry answered, a hint of concern in her voice.

"Well," Edward began again, "When Al and I were out last night we found her, but not Ling. And she… she's hurt really badly. The doctor we brought her to said that her injuries are too severe to save her arm." He heard Winry quietly gasp on the other end of the line.

"Al and I have to go and investigate this, but in order to do that we would have to leave the doctor alone. So I thought that maybe—"

 _"Don't say another word, Ed,"_ Winry answered, _"Just give me the address and I can be there in twenty minutes. My train can wait for another day… and I'll bring that cat with me too."_

"… Thank you," he finally uttered gratefully before giving her the address and details.

* * *

The moment they walked into Mustang's office, Edward and Al knew that something was off. Looking around, Edward realized that two very crucial members of the team were missing; the two that he was there to see: Mustang and Hawkeye. Instead, all he saw was the three remaining team members sitting silently at their desks, all of them hunched over their paperwork.

It was so quiet and still that Edward and Alphonse jumped when the sound of jingling reached their ears. Whirling around, Edward saw Black Hayate eagerly round one of the desks, only to halt a moment later when he saw the two of them. His ears instantly dropped and he hung his head, as if disappointed that they were there.

Having Hayate around without Lieutenant Hawkeye was… unusual.

"Yeah, I found him wandering around outside. I think he's looking for Lieutenant Hawkeye," Master Sergeant Kain Fuery suddenly quipped, looking up from his paper work.

Edward's eyes wandered back over to the black-and-white Shiba Inu, who was now on the other side of the room, alternating between growling to himself and sniffing as he cautiously wandered around Hawkeye's desk. "He was just… wandering around? By himself?"

"Yeah," Second Lieutenant Breda muttered as he rose from his desk, turning his focus toward the boys. "Didn't see the Lieutenant around at all whatsoever."

Furrowing his brows, Edward replied, "That's the reason why I'm here." When he saw that he had the entire team's attention, he asked, "Have you noticed the Lieutenant acting strangely the past few days?"

"Yeah," Breda answered as he grabbed a newspaper that he had unfolded on his desk and tossed it back down, "Same with the Col—General too. Hell, he didn't even tell us he was up for a promotion."

"Same," Edward muttered in reply. "And the other day when we encountered Scar neither the Colonel nor Lieutenant performed up to the standard you'd expect them to." When Breda's expression urged him to go on, he elaborated, "Mustang couldn't produce a single spark despite trying over and over again. At first I thought maybe it was a tear in his ignition gloves, but then the Lieutenant forgot to turn off the safety on her gun when she pulled it.

"I thought that it might be because of what happened to Lieutenant Havoc, but I just don't know."

"They have only mentioned the Lieutenant once in the past few days," Falman quipped as he too got to his feet. "And despite our attempts to convince them to accompany us to visit him, they have refused every time."

"That doesn't sound like them at all," Al squeaked. "The Colonel and Lieutenant would never—"

"That's because it isn't them," Edward interrupted.

The instant he finished that sentence, the room grew uncomfortably still and quiet, the only noise being the soft jingle of Hayate's collar as he continued to wander around and investigate the area around Hawkeye's desk. Lieutenant Breda was finally the one to speak up. "What are you talking about?"

"You said it yourself," Edward said as he took a moment to glance at each of the three men before his eyes finally fell back on Lieutenant Breda, "They've been acting strange… And that's because it isn't them."

Quirking a brow in disbelief, Breda crossed his arms and asked, "How is that even possible? We know the Colonel and Lieutenant. There's no way someone could impersonate them."

"Someone once told us that nothing was impossible," Edward countered as he leaned back against Mustang's desk and planted his hands atop it to straighten himself. "And it's possible that there is more than one shape shifter among them."

"Shape shifter," Breda echoed back, his growing doubt evident in his tone.

Without batting an eye, Edward nodded and said, "One of them we've encountered before; so have Ling and Lan Fan. They fought it while the Colonel and others were chasing Barry the Chopper's body. It's called Envy.

"And if there's one, there's bound to be—"

Edward was interrupted when a low growl cut through the air. Turning back, he saw Hayate standing stiffly, his hackles raised and teeth bore toward the door. Whipping his head around to face the direction that the dog was looking, he saw the very two people they were discussing standing in the doorway: Mustang and Hawkeye.

He watched as Mustang's eyes quickly swept the room, falling on each of the men and staying there for a moment before ultimately falling upon him. And when their eyes actually met, Edward could feel the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end.

After a long, drawn out silence, the 'General' finally cleared his throat and said, "Sorry we're late. My meeting ran longer than expected this morning." When no one immediately acknowledged his reasoning, he furrowed his brows and asked, "Is everything okay here?" Focusing his attention on Edward once more, he added, "Did you bring a case report for yesterday's incident, Fullmetal?"

"… I didn't," Edward replied cautiously, his eyes never wavering from the 'General.' "Figured there was no reason to seeing that you were there most of the time."

At that revelation the General sighed and rubbed the bridge of his nose agitatedly. "Fullmetal, you do realize that every incident requires a report, correct? Especially considering that it was Scar that you dealt with."

"Well, right now I'm more concerned about another incident," Edward replied with a low and guarded tone. "One being the disappearance of Ling Yao."

Immediately Mustang paused and pulled his hand away from his face, raising a brow at Edward's statement. A beat later he recovered, crossed his arms, and said, "That friend of yours? If you're asking whether I've seen him or not, I'll stop you right there and say that I haven't."

"Interesting," Edward muttered as he allowed his gaze to wander over to Hawkeye, who was watching him intently, "Because someone told me they saw you last night, Lieutenant."

Seemingly surprised, she cast him a curious glance and replied, "I don't know who that could be, Edward. I was home last night." As she finished that sentence, Hayate took a few cautious steps toward her, but suddenly stopped as he pulled his lip back and snarled. When Edward looked back up at her, he saw that her focus was now on the dog, her expression one of extreme annoyance.

"What is with the suspicion," Mustang asked, drawing Edward's attention away from the Lieutenant to look back at him, the man's obsidian eyes scanning the men in the room. "If it's because I failed to mention this promotion, I can assure you that I was just as surprised as you are."

"It isn't that, Boss," Breda replied as his hand instinctively went to the holster on his hip, "It's the fact that you and the Lieutenant have been dodging our questions these past few days. The fact that neither one of you seem to care enough to visit Havoc anymore; and the fact that you two have been hiding behind uniform protocols and whispers. So I want to know," he added as he pulled the gun from his waist, "Who the hell are the two of you, because you sure as hell aren't the Colonel and Lieutenant."

Turning his focus back toward the Mustang and Hawkeye, Edward saw the two of them exchange the briefest of glances before they looked back at the men. In a final attempt to laugh off the situation, Mustang took a step forward and raised his hands to signify peace. "You can't honestly be seri-" When he took another step forward, he stopped when Falman and Fuery raised their guns as well. Stopping his advance, Mustang kept his hands raised as a smirk crossed his face. His eyes flickering over to Edward, he at last said, "I'm impressed. I figured we'd get away with it for just a while longer."

"So you admit it," Edward growled as he clapped his hands together and slapped his left on his automail and forming a blade, "You're not the Colonel and Lieutenant."

"Oh," he mused as he lowered his hands and shoved them into his pockets, "We're them alright." Seemingly hearing something behind him, he casually cast his glance over his shoulder and glared toward Sergeant Fuery, who was still on his feet, the gun quivering in his trembling hands. When Mustang took a step toward him, the nervous young man took a step backwards and stumbled over his chair.

A second later Edward heard a loud 'crack' and saw Mustang falter as he staggered backwards, his hand going up to his shoulder as a series of red sparks poured from the wound. Realizing that Fuery had accidentally pulled the trigger, Edward made a move to rush forward but was stopped when a flurry of black invaded his vision. Stumbling backwards, he cut his cheek against something sharp and instinctively froze, just as he heard Alphonse cry out.

Turning his head ever so slightly, he saw that Hawkeye had one hand extended toward Alphonse; long, spindly spears penetrating his armor's arms and torso, just below where his blood seal was. If he moved even an inch, there was the potential that it would be destroyed…

And her other hand was extended toward him, the same black spears mere inches from slashing through his shoulders and neck.

"Wh-what are-" Before Breda, he himself too stunned to pull the trigger as he looked on with a horrified expression.

A split second later Mustang was halfway across the room and in front of Sergeant Fuery's desk. Startled by the man's lightning fast reflexes, Fuery stood no chance as he simultaneously dropped his weapon the moment Mustang grabbed the lapels of his jacket. Yanking the frightened young man over his desk, the older dark-haired man was quick to slam him down onto the ground, knocking the wind from Fuery's lungs.

As the young man choked and wheezed, Edward saw 'Hawkeye' look away and toward them. Now was his chance. If he could land a blow or something, maybe it would reveal itself. Slashing through the imposter's spears with his autodial blade, he dashed toward her, ready to catch her while she was still distracted. But just as he had gotten just outside arm's length of her, she turned toward him, her brown eyes filled with despair.

"Edward…"

Feeling the blood in his veins run cold, he skidded to a stop in front of her and froze. There was no denying it. It was Hawkeye…

But how-

"Edward," she began again, her voice sounding more strained than before as spots of violet began to form in her eyes. "You have to.. listen to us-" As he took a step back, the gravity of the situation slowly beginning to sink in, she continued, "Father… is the one pulling the **strings** -" Pulling the spears from Alphonse's armor and releasing her hold on him, she clapped her hands down on either side of her head and staggered backwards as whatever was inside of her began to viciously fight back.

Hearing a strangled cry, he whipped his head around to see Mustang following suit, his hands on his head as he towered over Fuery. Backpedaling, he slammed into Fuery's desk and released one hand to steady himself on it as he too began to fight. "There's not… much time," he managed to choke out as he doubled over and dug his nails into the desk's wood. "They're planning to-"

Before he could finish he stumbled forward again and raised his other hand to his face, peering out at him through his fingers.

That's when Edward noticed that there was something red in the place of where his iris would be. But before he could see it clearly enough, Mustang blinked and it was gone.

"Edward, please," Hawkeye begged as her internal struggle continued, reflected in her violet and brown eyes. "You have to… s-stop us."

"Stop you… But-"

"Please," she snapped as one of her hands went down to the holster on her belt. "All of you- Have to… end us…" Grabbing the gun in her holster, she withdrew it and pointed it at Edward, her hand trembling. A beat later, however, her demeanor changed; her eyes growing darker as the violet he had seen before dominated her irises. Smirking, she steadied her hand before loosening her grip on the gun, allowing it to clatter to the ground.

Casting her glance toward Edward, she purred, "Who knew threatening your lives was such an effective way of reining her in. All I had to do was point with the intention of pulling the trigger, and she was like clay in my hands."

"Who are you," he growled as he raised his blade defensively, lest she let loose her spears again.

"I think the answer's clear," she said as she raised a gloved hand across her chest, her fingers once again lengthening to spears.

"That-that's impossible," Alphonse squeaked as she turned her attention toward him, "I was there with the Colonel and Lieutenant. I saw you get burned-"

"-Lust," Edward snarled as he completed Al's sentence, prompting her to focus back on him once more, her confirming, sinister smile forcing shivers to run down his spine. "Tell me how this is possible. Mustang killed you!"

"Surely you can't be so close-minded to completely dismiss the possibility," she taunted, "That we can manifest ourselves in other forms." Her eyes flickering over to Al, she added, "Because nothing is impossible."

Before anyone could counter back, a low moan forced them to turn toward Sergeant Fuery, who was attempting to push himself up off of the ground. Grabbing the back of his jacket, 'Mustang' pulled him to his feet, the younger man's head lolling back and forth carelessly as he tried to steady himself. "It looks like the Sergeant isn't doing too well." Shoving him forward, he amusedly watched as the young man stumbled back. Before he fell to the ground again, however, Breda abandoned his position and caught him.

"I suggest you take him to the infirmary," 'Mustang' drawled, his expression turning to one of boredom, "Because I'd hate for one of my subordinates to needlessly miss work for this little mishap."

"What makes you think we're coming back," Breda growled as he hung Fuery's arm over his shoulder to keep him upright.

"Oh," 'Mustang' responded, "You'll continue working under my command if you hold any value in the lives of your friends."

"What does that mean," Edward pressed, drawing the General's attention to him.

"Let's just say that your cooperation will make things easier for all of you," he replied cryptically. "Especially considering that Ling Yao is still unaccounted for." No doubt seeing Edward's face pale, the General chuckled darkly and added, "And I would hate for something terrible to befall that dear friend of yours. Her name is Winry, correct?"

"What are you planning," Edward snarled as he took a step forward, only to have Lust block his path with her spears.

"All will become clear in due time," the General replied as he shoved his hands in his pockets and leaned back against Fuery's desk. "So for now, just sit tight and await your next orders."

When he made a move to push forward, he heard Alphonse utter, "Brother…" prompting him to look toward his younger sibling. Soul-fire eyes locked themselves on him as Al shook his head and said, "No…"

Reluctantly retracting his automail blade, he turned his head away defeatedly and growled.

Seeing the boy's reluctant agreement to his unspoken terms, the General grinned and said, "Now, if you're finished here, you are excused," as Lust retracted her claws, giving Edward the same triumphant look that the General wore.

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the men slowly retreating toward the door, Fuery balanced between them and Hayate tucked under Falman's arm, their eyes never wavering from the General and Lieutenant.

With a wave of dismissal, the General waved them off without a second glance. When they slipped out of the office, he turned his focus to the two Elric brothers, who were eyeing the two of them with contempt. "You are excused, Fullmetal."

Holding his ground, Edward growled, "Not unless you tell me what you did with Ling."

Chuckling, the General shook his head and said, "We've given you far too much information to mull over already. Just revel in the fact that I haven't confirmed your friend's demise. _That_ should be enough for you."

Clenching his fists at his sides and gritting his teeth, he muttered, "And what about the Colonel and Lieutenant? What about _them_?"

"They're already given you a status report," the General replied coldly, his somewhat calm demeanor darkening along with his expression.

"That isn't what I meant," he countered.

"I'm well aware," the General answered as he too attempted to contain his resent, balling his trembling hands into fists. "And if you value them as well, you will _stand down_."

Taking a few steps backward and causing Al to follow suit, he slowly looked between the two individuals that stood before them, eyeing them with malice.

Reaching the door, Edward clumsily reached out behind him and grabbed the doorknob and turned it, his eyes never leaving the two that stood before him. "This isn't the end," he muttered as they continued to stare him down.

Sensing Edward's retreat, the General relaxed. "I don't doubt it," he replied annoyedly.

Pushing the door open, he looked at them one last time, seeing his own sorrow reflected in their eyes. As long as they were still there… "Just… hold on," he uttered, addressing the Colonel and Lieutenant.

For a brief and fleeting moment, he could have sworn that he saw something in their eyes to indicate that they were there and listening. But just as quickly as he saw it, it was gone. Instead, he saw them eye Al and him just as critically as before, their looks akin to a predator studying its prey.

The moment he closed the door behind him, he immediately began to make his way down the hallway, his slow canter turning quickly into a fast walk.

"Brother!"

"Wait, Al," Edward said as his pace quickened. Looking up and seeing the front doors of Central Command before him, his brisk jog became a sprint. Flinging the doors open, he ran out into the morning rain and flew down the steps. When he reached the bottom, however, he slipped on a smooth patch of marble and crashed to his knees, driving his automail fist into the ground.

Hearing Alphonse run up behind him, he lowered his gaze so that his younger brother wouldn't see. He needed to keep it together for him. He had to…

"Brother," Al whispered quietly again, his voice faltering, "Please… what do we do?"

After taking a few moments to catch his breath, Edward slowly shook his head and finally gasped, "… I don't know, Al. I… I don't know…"

* * *

"What the hell do you want," Jean Havoc snarled as his two new visitors eyed him with feigned innocence.

"What," the 'Colonel' –or in this case, General- said as he raised his hands and shrugged his shoulders, his smirk widening, "You aren't happy to see us?"

"No," Jean replied bluntly, "I'm not."

The General frowned. "You're not even going to congratulate me on my newest position? Skipping rank to become a Major General is a great achievement."

"Yeah," Jean growled, "One that should be earned, not handed to you on a damn silver platter."

Cocking a brow, the General replied, "Well, Mustang was bound to reach that level sooner or later." When Jean scoffed the two of them wandered around the edge of his bed and took the two seats that were positioned beside it. "So then, Lieutenant Havoc, when were you informed?"

"I'm not a Lieutenant anymore," he replied dryly as his eyes slowly wandered between the two of them. "And my former team figured they'd warn me beforehand since your encounter yesterday was less than civil."

The General raised his hands defensively and countered, "You can't blame us entirely; after all, they were very unruly. Hardly something you would expect from the competent, qualified soldiers they were trained to be.

"And the blows still continue to come, seeing that they all conveniently decided to take a day off today."

"Can you blame them," he growled back as he tightened his grip on his bedsheets, "They just figured out what you damn monsters did to the Colonel and Lieutenant. I'd consider their actions and absence more than justified."

"You're condoning their actions, despite them being against their superior officer?"

"Hah," Jean laughed bitterly, "You aren't their superior officer." Looking toward 'Hawkeye,' he added, "Just like you aren't their colleague." When she scoffed in reply he continued, "So what are you to doing here anyways, because I assume you aren't looking to say 'hello.'"

"That's true… to an extent," the General replied. "We could care less about your well-being. But they… They are worried immensely about you and your safety."

Narrowing his eyes, Jean slowly asked, "Are you here to kill me then? Let the Boss and Lieutenant watch?"

The General raised his brows at the question, but replied, "As much as I wish it were true, keeping you and the men alive allow us to keep the Colonel and Lieutenant on very short leashes."

"So your visit is just a friendly reminder that our liveliness is a gift from you, right?"

At that the General smiled. "Very good, Havoc. You know, you're a lot smarter than you let on."

"Thanks," he muttered sarcastically. "Glad to know I've got you all figured out."

At that the General let loose a brief laugh, just as a nurse filed into the room. Looking past Jean, he tossed her a friendly wave as she picked up the chart hanging on the edge of his bed.

For a moment Jean considered saying something, anything, to get away from them. But a cold glance from the General stopped him in his tracks; a glance that suggested if she, or anyone else, were unnecessarily involved somehow, their involvement would be very brief, and their end very abrupt. So instead he shot her a small and reassuring smile as she asked him a series of questions regarding his physical pain and wellbeing. Once she was done and he was confident that he did not let anything on, the three of them watched after her as she stepped out of the room to finish the rest of her rounds.

Once they were sure she was gone, the General turned back to Jean and said, "Well, I'll let you two catch up," as his eyes wandered up at the clock on the wall. Rising to his feet, he continued, "I should really get back to HQ to finalize a few plans we have recently laid out." When Jean refused to acknowledge his departure, the imposter rolled his eyes and lightly scoffed before making eye contact with 'Hawkeye,' who responded by tossing him a smirk.

After Jean heard his footsteps die away, he turned his glare to the blonde woman that was seated next to his bed, who was now smiling slyly toward him. Then, before he could retort or bite something back in reply, she leaned forward and placed a hand on his arm, brushing her cheek past his to press her lips against his ear. "Do you remember me," she whispered. "Because I am quite unforgettable."

"What are you—" He cut himself off as he gasped, feeling her nails dig into his bicep. In that instant his thoughts immediately turned to one individual with a very particular technique… "They told me it was you," he breathed as she tightened her steel-like grip on his arm, "But the Colonel, he killed you…"

"He did, in a sense," she clarified. "And now I've been reborn in the one person he'll _never_ escape. I find it very serendipitous because it keeps _him_ in line."

Feeling a fine layer of sweat form on his brow, Jean uttered, "And just who else is keeping him in line besides you?"

"You would like to know, wouldn't you," she mused, "But what's the fun in revealing everything in one go? After all, I find the suspense to be captivating."

Jean could feel a tingling sensation suddenly begin to form and envelop the area just above his waist, above the area he had lost feeling in. As her nails slowly dug deeper and deeper into his skin, the tingling he felt began to strengthen, turning into a sharp, searing pain; akin to the pain he had felt that day. The memories suddenly flooding his mind, he began to claw at the bedsheets and attempt to push himself away from her.

Obviously enjoying this struggle, she dug her nails deeper into his bicep, digging into the muscle of his arm. "What's the matter, Jean," she asked innocently, "Are you remembering our time together now?"

"Go to hell," he hissed as he tried to jerk his arm out of her grip.

"Only if you'll join me," she purred, brushing her lips against his ear. "I only wish that I could remember it as well. I can only imagine how special it must have been for you…"

Just as he was about to retort back with the first insult that came to his mind, she suddenly drew away and retracted her claws, straightening herself as Rebecca Catalina walked turned the corner.

Stopping in the doorway, she glanced between the room's occupants before her eyes ultimately settled on Hawkeye. Taking a step toward the imposter, she licked her dry lips before muttering, "Hey Ri… I didn't expect to see you here."

Judging by the glance Lust had tossed her, Jean was confident that she knew Rebecca was aware. Mustering up a fake smile, she coolly replied, "Hey Rebecca. It's nice to see you too. We'll have to catch up later, though, because I was just leaving." Turning back to Jean, she added, "It was nice seeing you, Lieutenant. I'll be sure to stop by soon."

And with that she turned away and strode around the bed. Stopping beside Rebecca, she placed her hand on the brunette's shoulder and gave it a light squeeze. "I'll see you later, okay?"

Rebecca nodded rigidly and forced a smile. "Definitely. I'll let you know when I'm free."

After acknowledging Rebecca's confirmation, Lust nodded and pulled her hand off of the brunette's shoulder, turning the corner and vanishing from their sight. The moment her footsteps died away, Rebecca rushed over to Jean's bed and sunk down in the chair the blonde woman had occupied moments before. "Alright, who the hell was that, Jean? Because that sure as hell was not Riza Hawkeye."

Swallowing thickly, he cast his glance toward the door to confirm that she was gone before looking back at Rebecca. "It's like I told you on the phone, Becks. She and the Colonel… They've been compromised."

* * *

"How is this even possible?"

Now that he had at last calmed down and explained, Jean exhaled slowly before continuing. "I told you, Rebecca. If something as legendary as a Homunculus exists, then this isn't too far of a stretch."

"So these _things_ were put inside of them and now they have complete control of their bodies," Rebecca asked exasperatedly.

"Yes," Jean replied with a small nod, trying his best to keep his expression as impassive as possible. "Although not complete control," he added in an attempt to instill hope into her. "From what the men told me they pushed through, even if it was for only a few moments.

"They're fighting, Becks. They're fighting back." As she buried her face in her hands, he finished by saying, "And we need to be here to pull them out of the trenches."

He watched as she took a deep breath and exhaled, her shoulders lowering themselves as she slumped. After taking another breath and letting it go, she nodded her head and muttered, "Yeah… I know."

Was that…. Doubt in her voice?

But before he could even contemplate how he would go about asking her, she continued on. "I just…" She sighed again before she lifted her head to look at him, her eyes wetted and shining. "Why them, Jean? Why _my_ best friend? What did they do to deserve this?!"

"Rebecca," he began as he reached for her hand, which she quickly pulled away.

"It isn't fair," she argued as her voice continued to rise to the point of near hysteria. "They didn't deserve this! They don't—"

"Becks," he yelped as he pushed himself upward and grabbed her wrists in an attempt to calm her, "Listen to me, please!" When she stopped for a split second, he continued, his voice softer and calmer, "I think it was because we were digging too deep, we were learning too much—"

"-Then why did you pursue it," she argued.

"Becks, you have to understand; this isn't something we could just _ignore_. There's something going on that is bigger than just us, bigger than the military. There's something going on inside of military command that involves everything we've been finding."

"Then why didn't you just report it to your superiors and be done with it?!"

With an exacerbated sigh, Jean explained, "Because they might be involved as well. The Colonel and Lieutenant were doing what they had to in order to uncover it."

"But why _them_ , Jean? Why you? Why is everyone I care about being taken away?!"

"Rebecca," he started again, but stopped as he watched her eyes wander down to look at her hands, still caught in his. As he started to loosen his grip, she tightened hers, giving his hands a tight squeeze. She knew the answers to her own questions, but was trying to _understand_.

She was grieving…

"You're acting like they're gone for good," he finally managed to mutter, his voice strangely more gravelly and quieter than he thought it would be.

Taking a deep, shaking breath, she looked him in the eye and uttered, "How do you know they aren't?"

The corner of his lip twitching upward, he answered, "Because someone once told me that nothing was impossible…

"Becks, there has to be a way we can get them out of this. There just has to be."

"But how are we even going to accomplish that," she fought back, her voice beginning to rise again. "How do you even get those _things_ out of them?!"

"I don't," he admitted, "But the Chief and Alphonse will help us figure out a way—"

"Jean," she began again, "You can't honestly be putting all of your faith in two young boys. They've done so much, but even they have limitations."

"That's where I'd have to disagree, Becks," he murmured as he shook his head side-to-side. "I admit that I've doubted them once or twice before… but I can also admit that those few times I was completely wrong.

"Those two will stop at nothing until they achieve what they set out to do. That's the reason the Colonel recruited the Chief; he had a sort of fire in his eyes. A passion. They won't stop until we have the Colonel and Lieutenant with us again."

For a moment he saw another flicker of doubt in her eyes, but after a few seconds of mulling it over she gave in to his words and allowed them to set in. "I have to go," she suddenly muttered as she reluctantly rose to her feet and wrapped her arms around her waist in a loose hug. "I came here immediately after I got off the train. My bags are waiting at my hotel and check-in ends soon."

"Rebecca," Jean began again as he instinctively made a move to stand. When he saw her flinch at his realization that he wouldn't be able to, he murmured, "I don't think you're completely satisfied with everything we've said here."

"No, I'm not," she admitted with a head shake. "It's just a lot to take in right now… But I really do need to go. If I don't get there in time they're going to cancel my reservation."

Drawing his lips in a thin line as he eyed her worriedly, he uttered, "Are you sure you can't stay? Maybe take someone with you?"

Once again she shook her head, "I made sure to book it close to the hospital. It's only a three minute walk from here. I'll be fine." Resting her hand on the bulge resting on her hip, she added, "I'm well aware of everything around me.

"Besides, who is there to take with me?"

"I could call one of the men? Maybe Breda or Falman could—"

"By the time they get here it'll be late, Jean." Leaning forward and brushing her fingers over the hand he had rested on his thigh, she said, "I'll come back as soon as I'm done; twenty minutes tops."

Realizing that her mind was made up, he exhaled defeatedly and uttered, "Twenty minutes you say?" When she nodded, he said, "Okay, but not a second longer unless you call me." Grabbing a pen and paper from the desk next to his, he scribbled down his phone number and handed the paper to her. "This is the number that goes directly to the phone on his table. If you'll end up being longer, I want you to call me and just let me know. I just want to make sure you're safe."

He saw her shoulders sag as she relaxed slightly. Taking the paper from his hand, she tucked it into her purse and murmured, "I promise. Twenty minutes tops."

* * *

Rebecca barely remembered the walk to her hotel, her mind swimming, clouded with all of the information she had just received. She honestly felt like she was dreaming right now; that this was all some nightmare that she'd wake up from where she would be able to pick up the phone beside her bed and call her best friend. Her best friend that never fails to answer by the third ring, her tone formal yet inviting.

It was always the perfect time to catch her; when the day and work was over and pushed to the back of their minds. Well, the back of Rebecca's mind, anyways. Riza would always somehow smuggle a few words in here or there about work, the Colonel, or something until Rebecca would silence her and demand that she talk about herself for once.

It be like old times when she 'woke up,' she decided as she rounded the corner of her hotel. Just like old-

She suddenly stopped in her tracks, a shiver running up her spine.

Leaning against the wall of the hotel just feet in front of her was Riza… Or rather, she told herself, the imposter.

Smirking at Rebecca's reaction, the woman pushed herself off of the wall and strolled toward her, violet eyes never leaving her. "Hey," she said as Rebecca took a step back, "I thought you'd never get here."

"What do you want," Rebecca growled as she tried to take another step back.

When her body would not cooperate, however, the Homunculus chuckled. In one fluid motion she slipped her arm beneath Rebecca's, snaked it around her arm, and grasped the brunette's bicep, digging her sharpened nails into her flesh. "Don't you remember," she murmured in a sickeningly sweet tone as she began to lead Rebecca away from her hotel, "I told you that I would be seeing you later."

"Oh, right," Rebecca replied slowly, "I remember now. Although I thought that meant much later… After I got checked in to my hotel."

Waving the comment off, 'Riza' shook her head and said, "You can do that once we're done catching up. We won't be too long."

Swallowing the lump that had formed in her throat, Rebecca managed to utter, "Yeah, you're right. Of course…"

No sooner had she finished that sentence, they turned the corner down into a deserted alleyway, away from any possibly prying eyes. Just as Rebecca opened her mouth to protest, 'Riza' shoved her away. Stumbling backwards, she desperately tried to regain her footing before she slammed into a brick wall. A beat later a gust of wind tore past her, forcing her eyes open as a sudden pain radiated through her neck.

Just feet ahead of her she saw 'Riza' grinning madly back, her gloved hand extended and protruding razor-like spears; two of which had grazed her neck, planting themselves on either side of her head.

Swallowing thickly, Rebecca tried to remain level-headed and cool, even as she felt a steady trickle of blood flow from the two wounds she had just sustained. From what she felt, however, the abrasions were not deep; simply flesh wounds. "Nice nails," she retorted, her tone higher than she intended for it to be, "Are you actually going let me paint them now that you've grown them out?"

It took her every ounce of her strength not to break down or react in any other way at that very moment. Looking into the face of her best friend and knowing that she wasn't there, it wasn't her, was beginning to become _very_ real… and very unbearable.

The imposter scoffed and grumbled, "Are you always this gutsy?"

"That's what makes me charming," Rebecca replied dryly.

'Riza' narrowed her eyes and clicked her tongue agitatedly in response to Rebecca's 'charm.' But after a few moments, her expression lightened as a thought crossed her mind. Smirking, she then said, "I'll bet Jean Havoc would agree."

"Don't you dare bring him into this," Rebecca snapped as she braced her hands against the wall to steady herself, noticing that the spears had shifted slightly, one of them now brushing against the side of her jaw. When 'Riza' went to open her mouth, Rebecca interjected, "And before you go any further to 'reveal' your connection to him in any way, I'll let you save your breath. He told me who you are! He told me everything!"

At that her face darkened, her piercing glare boring in to Rebecca. "You know," she growled as she tilted her hand slightly, the spear resting against the brunette's jaw now grazing the soft skin of her neck, "If he genuinely cared about your well-being, he would have left your visit as simply that; a visit. And now that you know too much, your blood will be on his hands." She moved her hand again, the spear now digging into her skin, inches above her carotid artery.

"So you're going to eliminate me now that I know? How does Riza feel about that?" Fighting through the pain and the notion that another flick of the Homunculus's wrist would likely result in decapitation, she gazed into narrowed violet eyes and uttered, "I know you're in there, Ri, and I know you're fighting this. You're stronger than it, you're—"

She was cut off by Lust's gleeful laugh. "You think that appealing to a single soul's humanity is going to stop me from killing you?" When Rebecca narrowed her eyes and did not immediately respond, she added, "You've got to be kidding me? You seriously think that—"

"I seriously think that you underestimate her," Rebecca snarled back as one hand went to her waistband, her fingers ghosting over the gun she had concealed on her him.

Seeing this, the Homunculus shot her a tired look. "I've dealt with her long enough to know her limitations, my dear; right now I'm more focused on yours.

"The moment you empty that weapon of yours, your fate will be sealed. You know enough to realize that your recklessness will get you nowhere in the end."

"It'll give me enough time to get the hell away from you," Rebecca growled in reply.

The corners of her lips twitching upward, 'Riza' retracted her spears and held both hands in the air. "Go right ahead then."

Within moments Rebecca grabbed the gun and raised it up, clicking the safety off as she steadied her hands. Keeping her glare focused on her target, she growled, "Don't you tempt me," to which the Homunculus replied with a smirk. But the longer Rebecca kept her gun raised and focused, the more she found that her line of sight began to waver.

"What's the matter? Are you too weak to pull the trigger?"

"Shut up," Rebecca snapped as she glared at… at Riza's face.

Her stomach churned and suddenly she felt her knees weaken. She was pointing her gun at Riza Hawkeye, her longtime friend from the academy; her _best friend_.

"I can see the struggle in your eyes," Lust purred as she took a step toward Rebecca.

"Stay back," Rebecca warned as she took a step backwards.

Not heeding to her plea, the Homunculus took another step toward her before stopping in her tracks. With a slow growl she stumbled back and raised a hand to her head. "Not now," she suddenly snarled. "You- Rebecca!"

Feeling the blood drain from her face, Rebecca lowered her gun and uttered, "Riza?"

"Go," her friend muttered as her hand went down to her holster, producing her gun. "She'll… kill you…!"

"There has to be a way, let me help-"

"Re…becca," Riza growled as she slowly lowered the gun, her hand trembling as she continued to fight against Lust's control. "You have to… run…"

"Wait—" Rebecca was cut off by the sound of a gunshot as Riza pressed the muzzle of the handgun against her knee and pulled the trigger, sending shards of bone and flesh in every direction as her kneecap shattered.

With a cry of pain Riza slumped to the ground as a burst of red sparks began to illuminate her wounded knee. Moved to help her, Rebecca took a step forward but was stopped when Riza raised her gun and pointed it at her. "Go!" When Rebecca still remained frozen, she fired a shot that buried itself into the wall behind her.

She could see that Riza was losing the fight, that she would be gone again in a matter of seconds. But still Rebecca hesitated as Riza's eyes wandered up and locked on hers, silently screaming for her to listen.

"Please…" she murmured. "Go…"

After seeing Riza's pained expression and hearing the agony in her voice, Rebecca knew that she was powerless against this internal struggle. All she could do now was listen to her friend. "I'll be back okay, Ri? Just hold on…" This time dodging another shot that Lust had fired toward her, she dashed around the corner and down the road.

She needed to get somewhere! Where that 'somewhere' was, however, she did not know. Still she kept running and running, praying that that mysterious place would present itself soon, or believing that this was still just a dream that she would wake up from at any moment, because she could really—

Suddenly two pairs of hands grasped her and yanked her into the alley she was sprinting past. Before she could let out a yelp of surprise, a hand covered her mouth as one of them leaned close and whispered, "Are you Rebecca Catalina?"

Upon hearing her name, she relaxed slightly as her eyes wandered between the two young women that had captured her. When they saw that she had taken them in, the one that had her hand over her mouth slowly removed it as Rebecca sputtered, "Who are—"

"There isn't enough time," the other one said as she grabbed Rebecca's wrist and began to lead her down the alleyway. "Just trust us."

Reluctantly following with her free hand on her holster, she allowed them to lead her down a few back alleys until they reached the steel backdoor of a one of the buildings. After they took one last look around to ensure that they weren't followed, they pushed the door open and began to descend the darkened staircase that immediately followed it.

Just as she began to open her mouth to ask again, she saw a light once they reached the bottom of the steps. When they pulled her into the room that housed the light's source, she was immediately greeted by the faces of the men she had befriended and grown to love as brothers over the years: Heymans Breda, Kain Fuery, who was looking a little worse for wear, Vato Falman, and even the Elric brothers.

But what really caught her attention was the two figures that stood at the end of the long table they were all seated at. The first, a larger woman with dark hair, adorned with a plethora of jewels and expensive clothing. And the other…

Raising her hand in salute, Rebecca watched as General Grumman raised one in acknowledgement before gravely uttering, "Thank you for joining us, Lieutenant Catalina."

* * *

 **A/N:** _Whew! Another long one x_x_

 _I hope you have enjoyed it so far! Next time there will be a bit more details outlined and parts missing from this chapter explained. Also expect some LingFan, the reappearance of Scar, and Roy and Riza present AT THE SAME TIME, as well as a very wrathful Roy… (So another long one)._

 _Again, thank you for all of the favorites, follows, and reviews so far! It truly means a lot._


	5. Chapter 5

"General Grumman," Rebecca acknowledged the older man once she caught her breath as she slowly lowered her salute. "I… I didn't expect…"

"Didn't expect to see me here," he finished her statement as he peered up at her over the rims of his glasses. Letting go a disheartened chuckle, he admitted, "I didn't expect to be called here myself but," he continued as he gestured to the room's other occupants, "Here we all are."

"Hey guys," she said slowly with a small wave toward the three remaining members of Colonel Mustang's team. When they shot her either a forced smile or an effortless wave, she cast her attention toward the two young boys that were seated closest to Grumman. While Alphonse Elric was watching her intently, Edward was keeping his focus down on the table, his arms folded across his chest and an expression that conveyed he was lost in deep thought.

"It's been a while Alphonse, Ed," she added a bit more loudly than before, hoping that the oldest of the two would look up as well. While Al did glance at her and throw back a similar half-hearted wave, the eldest Elric simply muttered something in response, but he did not cast his glance toward her.

Before she could try anything else, however, the General cleared his throat, prompting her to focus on him once more. Gesturing to the empty seat closest to her, he said, "Now that we're all here—"

"Wait," she interrupted as she looked around the room once more as the memories of what had just occurred took front and center in her mind. "Je— I mean, Lieutenant Havoc, he's still—"

"He'll be alright," the General answered calmly, a dash of confidence that seemed to have been absent up until that point sprinkled in his words. "He's safe tonight."

"How can you say that," she cried as the thought of Jean being left defenseless and alone began to take over. "He has no guard, _no protection_! He's a sitting—"

"They won't kill him."

Hearing his voice clearly for the first time, Rebecca turned her gaze toward Edward, whose intent, golden eyes were now focused on her. Seeing that he had her attention, he said, "They won't kill him, just like they won't kill any of us… At least not yet." After saying that, however, his eyes flickered down to her neck.

Remembering how close she had come to getting her throat slit, Rebecca raised her hand and brushed her fingers over the skin on her neck. When she drew her fingers away, she saw that they were coated in a light layer of mostly clotted red blood. Looking back up at the young boy, she murmured, "I don't know, Edward. It sure seemed like… Like _she_ was going to kill me."

Knowing exactly who she meant, he pried, "But she didn't, right, because she was stopped." Her expression must have given her away, because he followed up by saying, "The same happened to us. The reason why none of us died yesterday was because _they_ wouldn't allow it."

Though Rebecca kept her focus on the young boy, out of the corner of her eye she could see everyone turning in attention toward him, expecting him to continue. Seeing their actions as well, the golden haired boy crossed his arms and leaned back in his chair, his eyes slowly moving down to the table and fixating on its surface. "When she… Lust," upon saying the name, he grimaced, as if the word had left a bitter and resentful taste in his mouth, "Pulled a gun on me, she said that threatening our lives was a way of reining them in. She intended to pull the trigger, either ending my life or injuring me, and the Lieutenant…" When he uttered Riza's rank, he bowed his head and moved his arms so that he cupped his hands in his lap, his voice grew distant, as if he were beginning to get lost in his thoughts once more. "She gave in and let Lust resume control…"

No doubt recalling every detail of the encounter, the remaining members of Mustang's team focused their stares down on the table as well; Breda crossing his arms over his chest as Fuery fidgeted, while Falman, on the other hand, remaining stone-faced and unmoving. The only two that did not follow suit were General Grumman and the dark-haired woman that was seated next to him, an unlit cigarette resting between her lips, both of whom continued to keep their gazes focused on the elder Elric.

"And the Colonel…" Realizing that Edward hadn't finished talking, Rebecca looked back toward him to see that, while he was continuing, he had not averted his gaze from the table. "The one that had taken him had the power to kill Sergeant Fuery. He crossed the room in a matter of seconds and practically threw him across the room… but still, he didn't kill him." Raising his golden eyes to watch Fuery, his look encouraged the young man to continue.

Following his gaze, Rebecca too watched him as he took a deep breath, before exhaling softly. Glancing up from his hands, which were neatly folded in his lap, the Sergeant murmured, "The moment I accidentally pulled the trigger, I thought I had killed the Colonel. The bullet went right through his shoulder, and at that point I saw what I thought to be blood. It wasn't until he had pulled me over my desk that I even knew he was fine. But," he continued as he began to knit his fingers together and pull them apart over and over again, "The way I hit the floor… It only caused minimal damage; only a mild concussion and some bruising, something that we passed off as a combat exercise injury…

"He could have seriously hurt me… But he didn't."

The General nodded hastily in reply, as if he had heard the story previously. "I don't doubt that Mustang would prevent it from hurting you further, Sergeant. But," he continued as he focused his bespectacled glance on Edward, "We must be aware that the enemy's resolve might change at any given moment. And if that is the case, we must be prepared to—"

"No way," Edward yelled as he slammed his hands down on the table and leapt up from his chair. Glaring daggers at the old General, he seethed, "There's no way in _hell_ I'd ever do that!"

Without batting an eye or flinching at the teen's sudden outburst, General Grumman coolly replied, "Major Elric, you know that we do not expect this of you. I have known of your resolve for quite some time now, and understand and respect your decision. However," he continued as his gaze grew cold, "You must understand that in times of war, a rogue soldier must be eliminated—"

"They're not rogue soldiers," Edward cried as he balled his hands into fists on the table, "So stop saying that they are!" Narrowing his eyes at the older man as Grumman turned his gaze away, he growled, "That's your grand-daughter, not some nameless soldier that you have a bullseye plastered on. And you," he continued as he focused his glare on the older, dark-haired woman seated beside the General, "That's your nephew. You know, the one you said you raised since he was a kid."

At that, the woman's eyes flickered away, chewing on the unlit cigarette as if she were mulling over his words.

Nephew? Rebecca knew that General Grumman and Riza were related; a fact known only by a handful of people. Other than that, she knew next to nothing about Riza's past, and she knew even less about the man she had practically devoted her life to. Eyeing the seemingly out of place woman in the room, Rebecca internally agreed that she and the Colonel had some semblance to each other; not enough to be immediate, but certainly very closely related… Once again Rebecca was drawn from her thoughts as the young golden-haired boy began to speak.

"We've known about the situation for less than two days and you're already calling out hits on them. You're setting Mustang and Hawkeye up for failure before we even know if it's possible to get them back."

"Edward," the General said calmly, attempting a different approach with him, "You have to understand where we are coming from with this. It is painful and it is something that we don't want to do, but you must understand that it is entirely possible this cannot be reversed."

"I know that," Edward countered, "And that's why I'm bringing my contact here; to figure out if something like this is possible to reverse."

With a weary sigh, the General slumped slightly in his chair and pushed his glasses up, rubbing the bridge of his nose with his forefinger and thumb. After a few moments, he decided that he would no longer argue as he said, "I will give you some time, Major Elric, to research and observe them. But," he continued as he pulled his hand away from his face and scanned every person in the room, "If there are no leads in the allotted time, or if something happens where force is necessary, I want no hesitance from anyone in pulling the trigger."

Deciding that he had won, Edward leaned back from his position over the table and muttered, "That won't be necessary because we'll have it all figured out by then." Pushing off from the table, he motioned for his younger brother to follow.

Standing up from the table, the suit of armor saluted the General, who returned the gesture.

Rebecca watched as he hurried after his brother, who had not stopped to properly bid a farewell to the rest of the room's occupants, trying desperately to apologize for his brother's brashness.

Before leaving the room, however, Edward put a hand on the doorframe and turned a small fraction, just enough to glance back over his shoulder. After locking eyes with General Grumman, he muttered, "Tomorrow at the same time, right?" When the General nodded, the boy slid his hand off of the wall and departed, Alphonse following suit after tossing them one more rushed farewell.

After she had watched after them, Rebecca looked back toward the end of the table the General was seated at and saw that he had slid down in his chair, his hand on his forehead and his elbow propped up on the table. Just moments before he had looked so commandeering, authoritative, sure… But now… Now he looked like he had aged at least ten years.

Letting go of the breath he had been holding since the boy left, the General shook his head dejectedly and murmured, "I wish I could have as much optimism as that young boy…" After pausing for a few moments to let the rest of the conversation sink in, he looked up and locked eyes with Rebecca. Shooting her an apologetic and forced smile, he said, "I'm terribly sorry if you are lost, Lieutenant Catalina. You see, we were nearly finished discussing our next move when the girls brought you down." Gesturing to her, he added, "I see that she found you before they did, however."

Reaching up again and grasping her neck, Rebecca nodded slowly and said, "But it's only a flesh wound. And like Edward said, Riza stopped her. She—"

The General raised his hand, silencing her. Taking a moment to recollect himself, he said, "I don't doubt your claims, Lieutenant. I just… need a moment to process everything, is all."

At that the woman seated next to him rose and stepped around the edge of the table, placing her hands atop his shoulders. When he jumped slightly and looked up at her, she graveled, "I think you've processed enough, General. Let's discuss this more later."

"I appreciate your concern, Chris, but—"

"I'm sorry," she muttered as she shook her head and pulled his chair, and him, out from the table, "But right now I'm _insisting_."

No doubt realizing that he would inevitably lose, the General dipped his head in acceptance and slowly rose from his seat. As he did this, the three other men at the table quickly jumped to theirs and saluted him, to which he responded with a small wave. Without casting them another glance, the woman led the General toward the stairs and helped him up it, their footsteps growing dimmer and dimmer as they climbed up.

When she no longer heard them, Rebecca turned toward the rest of Mustang's team, seeing that they were still watching after the General. "What else happened while I wasn't here," she quietly asked as the three men looked away from the spot they last saw the General.

"You pretty much got the gist of it," Heymans admitted with a small shrug. "The General and Edward argued most of the time."

"That doesn't surprise me," Rebecca mused as she hugged her arms around herself, feeling a chill settle into her bones.

"Yeah," he managed to say as he looked toward the stairs again, as if he were expecting the General to return and explain. When he didn't, however, Heymans muttered, "I honestly don't know who to side with on this one.

"I have faith in those two boys, you know? They're dedicated, driven. I have no doubt they'll get their bodies back. But even so," he continued with a half-hearted sigh, "Edward admitted that he had never heard of such a thing, and that even he was uncertain of whether or not it could be reversed."

Rebecca swallowed thickly upon hearing the revelation, but tried her best to keep her emotions in check, all the while her wounds becoming increasingly sore and irritated.

"And on the other hand, I find myself agreeing with what the General said. They _wouldn't_ want to continue on like that." Clenching his fists at his side, he murmured, "I just can't imagine what it must be like. To witness everything going on around them, but having no control, watching through your own eyes as your body listens to another voice inside of your head."

Looking toward Kain and Vato, she saw that they too seemed to agree, although ashamedly, as they focused their eyes on anything else _but_ her.

"If it were me," Heymans continued as he raised his hands to waist-height and balled them into fists again, "I'd want them to do me in and release me from it.

"The General was not wrong in what he said, but it's so damn difficult to stomach."

"I know," she answered quietly as she hugged her body tighter, the chill once again making its presence known.

"Hey."

Looking up, she saw Heymans eyeing her curiously. "You okay? You're trembling."

Trembling? Unwrapping her arms from around herself, she looked down at her hands and saw that they were indeed shaking. Looking back up at him, she attempted a small smile and said, "I'm fine, really."

Casting her a skeptical glance, Heymans grumbled, "I've known you long enough to know that something isn't right. So you'd might as well spill the beans."

Honestly, she felt fine. She was fine. She was…

However, the longer she told herself that, the more she began to realize that, no, she was not fine.

All in one day she had to see her ex, the only man she had ever, truly loved, confined to a bed… most likely for life. Then she saw her best friend shoot herself _in the knee_ to prevent that monster from hurting her again.

No. She wasn't fine.

When she drew herself out of her thoughts again, she saw that Heymans, Kain, and Vato were in front of her, each of them wearing expressions of deep concern. Rather than admit it downright, she shook her head and said, "Jean… I have to speak to Jean. I told him that I would call when I got to my hotel and…" Feeling a hand on her shoulder, she looked up from her trembling hands again to see Heymans watching her.

"You won't get a hold of him."

"What?" Brushing his hand off of her shoulder, she took a step away from them, her eyes wide and wild. "What do you mean? Why—"

"Relax," he said as he took another step forward and raised his hands defensively. "We have someone wandering in the hospital as we speak. They're going to take him and sneak him out under the guise of a nurse. You won't reach him because he won't be there. And he won't be there because in order for the Elric brothers to succeed, we'll need all the help we can get."

* * *

Dragging his fingers agitatedly though his hair, Wrath growled under his breath as Mustang once again pushed. He had been relentless and unforgiving since the other day, never stopping for a moment to rest as he tried fruitlessly to break free, constantly fretting about the safety of his subordinates, who had all unanimously decided to call in sick that day…

Casting a glance toward Lust, he saw an irritated look cross her features, though she seemed to, for the most part, have the Lieutenant under control. When her eyes flickered up to meet his, she crossed her arms over her chest and muttered, "Is he still whining about that Sergeant?"

With a light scoff, Wrath answered, "He is. And you?"

Rolling her eyes in annoyance, she responded, "Of course. She hasn't once shut up about him or Catalina. Frankly, I'm beginning to grow weary of it."

Looking up at the bearded man that sat on his throne above them, Wrath said, "Unfortunately, the only anger I am feeling is anger toward him. I have yet to even stir anything remotely close to pure, unadulterated rage. It's more difficult than I imagined it would be."

Rubbing his chin thoughtfully, Father leaned against the throne's armrest and peered down at Wrath, remaining silent as his eyes flickered about, observing him. After a few more thoughtful moments, he rumbled, "I would imagine so, my child. After all, wrath is one of the most difficult sins to express without some sort of trigger." Glancing over toward Lust, he asked, "And have you found it as difficult?"

All at once the annoyance drained from her expression, replaced now by confidence and self-assuredness. "The Lieutenant longs for many things; it's now just a matter of catching her at her weakest."

Nodding to that, Father looked back at Wrath. "Have you tried discussing recent happenings with the Colonel? Surely he must be upset with the way his team was handled."

"He is," Wrath reassured Father, "Though he is keeping that rage locked up within him. He's better at controlling it than previously thought."

Seemingly understanding this, Father replied, "It would seem that you will take hold of him in due time. I am feeling confident, however, that this method will work. By forming that deeper bond of understanding through the Colonel and Lieutenant's own sins, it will only be a matter of time before their souls are easier to take hold of."

"But his flame alchemy would prove useful now," Wrath grumbled as he reached into his pocket and brushed his fingers over the unused ignition gloves that were there.

"I know," Father reassured, though it was evident by his voice that he was disappointed. "But you must remember that the Colonel's will is strong, though even he will fall victim to the cardinal sin of wrath. For now it will be a matter of time."

"Heh."

Rotating his head around and toward the noise, Wrath watched as Envy plodded out of the darkness, a smirk on its face and its hands on its hips. Focusing its violet eyes on Wrath, it raised brow and mused, "Still hard at work roping in the Colonel, Wrath?" When Wrath elected not to respond to its baiting, it huffed and then grinned. "Well, you should be happy to know that I got my end of the deal done." Casting its glance toward Father, it added, "Within the next few days 'the Fuhrer' will suddenly fall ill; I'm thinking a heart attack."

Impressed, Father leaned back in his chair and nodded approvingly, "Do whatever you believe is necessary, so long as it is believable."

"Of course," Envy agreed as it intertwined its fingers and raised them above its head, popping its knuckles and back as it stretched. "I might even lay bedridden for a few days, whispering sweet nothings into the ear of that pathetic wretch Wrath formerly called his wife. Let her down long and hard." Sneering at Wrath as it lowered its arms, it added, "Should I die with my eyes closed for dramatic effect, or open for more emotional scarring?"

Before he could even begin to think of a response, Envy shrugged its shoulders and said, "I think I'll go with keeping my eyes open. That way I can watch that sniveling bitch choke on her own tears."

Relatively indifferent to the other Homunculus's scheming, Wrath was about to focus his attention back toward Father when Envy added, "You know, since I've finished my end of the deal, I'll help you out." When Wrath raised a brow quizzically, it continued, "I've got a few aces up my sleeve that say I can piss the Colonel off."

Intrigued, Father leaned forward in his chair and said, "If you believe it could help gain access to the Colonel's Gate, then by all means try."

Grinning enthusiastically, Envy focused its attention back on Wrath, waiting for permission to advance. Letting out a low sigh and deciding that it would not hurt, Wrath was about to accept Envy's challenge before it interrupted him.

"If that's a yes, then I suggest you pull those ignition gloves on because I guarantee you'll be blowing smoke soon."

Rolling his eyes but not fighting it, Wrath dug into his pocket and produced the two gloves. After slipping them on, he folded his arms and eyed Envy impatiently.

Ignoring its sibling's annoyance, it cleared its throat and took a step forward, looking Wrath in the eye. Its grin widening ear to ear, it proudly said, "Hey Colonel, remember that little skirmish you were involved in all those years ago?" It paused for a moment, as if expecting a response. After Wrath gave it a look that suggested it continue, it added, "Well, you're looking at the one that started it all."

Suddenly Wrath felt a jolt, his body involuntarily taking a step forward and toward Envy. Mustang was pushing, and pushing _hard_. And yet… It still wasn't quite enough. Not enough, anyways, for him to take hold of Mustang's soul and begin drawing it in.

"That's right," Envy mused as it took a step closer, " _I_ was the one that shot that child."

At that point Mustang was well aware of their intentions, pushing away from Wrath as he struggled to bottle up every bit of rage and despair he felt.

With a huff, Envy drew back, clearly displeased by the lack of response. After a moment, however, a sickeningly sinister smile spread across its face as it looked Wrath in the eye. As it began to envelop itself in red alchemic sparks, it purred, "You know, Colonel, I don't think you've realized exactly who I am.

"You've been looking for me for quite a while now." Wrath looked on and watched as Envy's green hair shortened and lightened to a fair brown; its violet eyes deepening to a distinctive green. Turning the corners of its fuller lips into a smirk, it placed its hands on its hips as it completed its transformation into Gracia Hughes.

"You wanted to catch the killer of your precious friend, Maes Hughes? Well, here I am." Stretching its arms out, it paused and waited, eyeing Wrath eagerly.

Mustang wasn't convinced. Not in the very least…

Shaking his head, Wrath mumbled, "He doesn't believe you."

The Gracia look-a-like hid all signs of shock as it chuckled darkly. "Really, Mustang? You don't think I could have been the one to," it said, sticking out its index finger and thumb to resemble a gun and pointed it toward Wrath, "Pull the trigger?" When Wrath only shook his head to tell Envy that, no, the Colonel still did not believe it, it frowned.

"Hmm… I'm insulted," it growled as it put its hands on its hips and shifted its weight to one foot. After a moment, however, a thought crossed its mind. Illuminating itself in a shower of red alchemic sparks once more, Wrath watched as Envy grew taller, the clothes on its body forming into an Amestrian military uniform. Its hair shortened still and darkened as its green eyes became a more deep hue. Grinning as it finished its changes, it gestured to itself, a now perfect vision of Maes Hughes. "Perhaps this will change your mind, then, Colonel."

Upon seeing the image of his friend, Mustang began to shift and move and push…

Taking a moment to prepare itself, Envy closed its eyes and took a deep breath. Opening them again, it sneered momentarily before clutching its chest and stumbling backwards. Sagging to the ground, it looked up at Wrath and whimpered, "'Gracia, I'm so sorry… Elicia… Remember… Daddy loves you…-"

…

Roy felt Wrath's wall give and crumble as he burst through and raised his gloved hand toward Envy. Without hesitation he aimed and snapped, sending a spray of sparks in the Homunculus's direction. When the had aligned the oxygen molecules and had surrounded it, the resulting explosion consumed it, engulfing Envy in a column of flame.

Its surprised and agonizing scream ultimately falling on deaf ears, Roy aimed again and again and again, every explosion following becoming more volatile and unstable. By the fourth or fifth blast, the heat and flames had become so intense that he could feel the flesh on his face burning and blistering, and subsequently healing itself; but he didn't care.

He was free now and the one he had sought for months was standing burning in front of him… and he would be damned if he didn't take the opportunity to end its pathetic and worthless—

"That's enough!"

Hearing her voice, he paused long enough to allow the skin on his face to heal completely. A beat later he heard the distinct click of a gun's safety being turned off. Without turning back to face her, he growled, "Who is it I am I speaking to?"

"I think you know, sir," Riza replied, her voice unwavering as she stood her ground.

"Stand down, Lieutenant, while I still have control," Roy snarled as he poised his fingers again, eyeing the Homunculus that was regenerating in front of him. Oddly, however, neither it nor the other Homunculi had made a move to oppose him. Instead, Envy slowly pushed itself onto its hands and knees, glaring back at him.

Hearing Riza readjust her hold on the weapon, he growled, "If you're going to make good on your promise, you should remember the body I now possess. Your weapon will be completely useless."

"That won't stop me from trying," she answered with a hoarse whisper. "If that means I could potentially stop—"

"Why would you impede me now," he bellowed as he snapped, once again bathing Envy with a column of flames. A beat later he heard a gunshot and felt the air around his head move as the bullet whizzed centimeters past his ear.

Focusing his glare over his shoulder, he saw Riza standing with it raised and pointed at his head, the barrel still smoking from the shot.

"You missed."

Hearing this, the hardened mask she wore fractured, revealing an expression that could only be described as one of despair. A moment later, however, she steadied her now shaking hand and kept her sights locked on his head once more.

Narrowing his eyes, he venomously taunted, "Have you forgotten your resolve, Lieutenant? Have you forgotten what you had promised me so many years ago?"

"I haven't," she replied hardly. "I'm merely giving you the opportunity to stand down."

"And for what," he growled, "Look at us. They've taken us and turned us into the monsters we despise. And yet you are siding with them by preventing me from killing one of them."

"Look around you," she snapped. "Have you seen anyone move to oppose us?"

Allowing his eyes to dart around and see 'Father,' Gluttony, and even Envy, he saw that none of them had even moved, their eyes focused and locked on the dueling pair.

"They want this," she elaborated as she tightened her grip on the gun, "They want you to fall victim to your rage."

After letting loose a brief and harsh laugh, Roy replied, You think that in me destroying it, I would be weak enough to—"

"I will not let you be consumed by Wrath," she yelled, stopping him mid-sentence.

"I… I won't let you," she continued, her voice once again growing soft, "I'll do everything in my power to assure that you don't fall victim to your sins, even if that means I will instead."

When his eyes softened and his lips parted at the comment, she explained, "Lust is a desire, a longing. Desire is the fundamental motivator of all human action. I have longed for _nothing_ but to see _you_ and hear your voice again, and now that I have at last and have risen above Lust's control, I have found myself encompassed by her grasp." Averting her gaze toward the floor, Riza murmured, "I have been fighting her every moment of every day since she invaded my body; fighting because that desire is always lingering beneath the surface.

"… But no more."

Turning himself so that he was facing her, he watched as the weapon in her hand began to quiver once more.

"In my desire to stop you, I let my guard down. And as a result, she has taken hold of me. I can feel Lust beginning drag me down and consume me." The corner of her lip twitching upward in an attempt to shoot him a reassuring smile, she looked him in the eyes and murmured, "I'm sorry, sir. It looks like I won't follow you, after all. Instead, it seems that I will be hellbound long before you."

The gravity of her words hit him with an insurmountable force. All this time he had been fighting Wrath, trying his hardest to keep his rage buried deep within himself in order to withstand the Homunculus's attempts at controlling him. It was difficult when he was forced to be brutally blunt and cold toward the Elric brothers. Hard that he had to endure listening to his voice deliver less than warm greetings and words to Havoc. And it was next to impossible to control the utter despair and rage he felt when his very hand was used to subdue and harm one of his dearest subordinates.

But in that time he had not considered the immense amount of strength it took to no longer desire, to avoid a shred of longing. And yet here she was, Riza Hawkeye, fighting tooth and nail the entire time to avoid that desire… that _Lust_. Now, though… Now she was losing that battle, breaking through just enough to warn him. Giving up her soul in the hopes that she could give him another chance at fighting…

He should have seen this coming, should have known. Why else would the others stand back and watch as one of their own was being burned alive? Why would Wrath take a back seat in all of this? Even at that moment, the Homunculus was quiet; always present, but very, very quiet…

They wanted this to happen. And he was too blinded by his own wrath to take notice.

But no more… They would _not_ win.

As he took a step toward Riza, he could see that the color in her eyes had already shifted, see the sweat forming on her brow as she began to fight and struggle once more. Reaching out, he ran his hand along the barrel of the handgun and over her hand until he reached her wrist. Then, with a sudden and fierce yank, he gripped her wrist, causing her to drop the weapon. Pulling her forward, he wrapped his free arm around her and pulled her into himself.

Freeing the hand he had used to disarm her, Roy lifted it above his hand and poised his fingers to snap.

They would not win…

Suddenly he felt Wrath surge within him and take hold of him, slowly dragging him back into the darkest depths of his soul. Fighting and clawing against Wrath's grasp, Roy desperately tried to keep control, but almost instantly realized that he would have mere moments before he was pulled down.

His hand began to tremble violently as Wrath slowly began to dominate his body.

 _"You'd be willing to burn the woman you care about once again,"_ a voice whispered as it cut through the darkness.

 _"You know well enough that this blow will do nothing except draw a meager amount attention to your hopeless cause. It will only bring suffering unto yourself… And her…"_

Looking down at the woman that was pressed against his chest, Roy's resolve weakened as the muffled screams she emitted the night he had burned her crept back into his mind… as the smell of charred and burning flesh filled his nose.

Sensing his hesitation, she looked up at him. He could see the battle raging within her as her eyes wavered between a lavender hue and her chocolate brown. But like he, she too was losing…

Fighting through Wrath's control, he poised his fingers again, but then slipped as the muscles in his hand relaxed and loosened.

…

Just as Wrath took control once more, the woman in his arms raised her hands and lightly pressed against his chest, pushing herself off from him. Taking a few steps back, she smiled slyly as she hummed, "Better luck next time, Colonel."

But as she began to turn away, however, his hand shot out from his side and snatched her wrists mid-swing. When she turned to look over her shoulder at him, Mustang growled, "Don't give up, Lieutenant. Keep… fighting. I'll be here… I promise-!"

Seeing that Mustang had managed to break through for a moment, Lust sneered and jerked her hand away from his grasp. "Oh, don't worry, Colonel. I want to play with her a little longer before I consume her," she purred as she waved him away dismissively, turning away from him to meet Gluttony, who was standing in front of her.

Pulling his finger out from his mouth, the gluttonous being whimpered, "That mean woman stole my Lust again."

"That's right," she said as she stuck out her lower lip in a pout and patted his head affectionately. "But don't worry, that woman will be much easier to control now…—"

Tuning her out as he once again gained full control, Wrath turned away and raised his gloved hand to his face as a sudden burst of energy rushed through his veins. Rotating it, he stared at the array on the back of the glove… and suddenly began to understand.

He could feel them; Mustang's memories, and knowledge, slowly trickling into his mind.

Raising his eyes to meet Father's, who was watching him more intently than ever, he smirked and held his arm out, poising his fingers to snap. In one, fluid motion he struck his thumb and middle finger against each other, producing a small spark. And from that spark rose a small, fleeting flame.

It was enough, he thought to himself as he looked back at Father, who was wearing a rare and pleased smile…

Enough to know that he had at last taken hold of the Flame Alchemist's soul.

* * *

He was surprised that his senses were still intact enough to be able to find them. But here Ling was, standing beside the bed of his most loyal subject, watching as she took shallow, gasping breaths while in her drug-induced slumber.

Kneeling down beside her so that the moonlight shining through the window bathed her in its glow, he dared not move any further, for fear that his new body would harm her if he even thought to touch her.

All of this had happened because of him. Had he had his guard up, they would have never been ambushed, and she would have been left unscathed…

The creature within him, this "Greed," had been gracious enough to allow Ling to deliver a message to her; a warning. Reaching into his pocket, he produced a bandage cloth with letters only he and his subjects could understand, and laid it next to her.

The moment he put it down, he felt Greed stirring again and he knew that his time was up. Now he would whole-heartedly surrender himself to it, just as he had promised. Just as he rose to his feet, however, he heard something shift. Whipping his head around, he saw a pair of eyes shining through the darkness, fixated on him.

"Young Lord?"

Feeling the rush of adrenaline that had torn through him begin to subside, Ling let go of the breath he had been holding.

Elated to see him once more, the old man took a step toward him, but Ling raised his hand and halted him. "Don't come any closer, Fu," he warned.

"But Young Lord," his subject objected as he took another step toward him, "You have returned! Please, why would you—"

"I order you to stop."

At that Fu froze, his eyes widened in a mix of confusion and concern.

"Listen closely, Fu," Ling began authoritatively, "When Lan Fan recovers, I want the two of you to return to Xing. I have secured a Philosopher's Stone and—"

With a gasp, Fu muttered, "Young Lord, this means that—"

Feeling Greed's violent push, Ling stumbled back and raised a hand to his face. Peering at Fu from between his fingers, he uttered, "He's going to take control. There's no time, Fu. Just listen and… take Lan Fan and…-"

 _"That's enough, brat,"_ the Homunculus growled as it grasped Ling and began to drag him down.

 **"Wait** ," he cried internally as he clawed at the darkness that began to surround him, **"Just give me another minute. Let me—"**

The Homunculus laughed. _"I gave you more than enough time, you little prick. You've already given away a hell of a lot of information-"_

"I'm sorry," Ling gasped as he turned away, pushing against Greed with every last bit of strength he had. Before Fu could begin to counter him, the Xingese prince leapt through the window he had entered from and took off into the night's darkness, as Greed once again took hold of him.

* * *

After walking in silence for the entire length of their trip back to Dr. Knox's house, Alphonse could no longer take it. He needed to break through the reticence; he needed to hear his brother's thoughts.

That entire period from finding out about the Colonel and Lieutenant to that very moment was spent lost in intense thought. Whether he was getting ready for bed or eating, Alphonse could see Edward mulling over every alchemical equation he knew, his mind constantly revving at full-throttle. And despite checking, Al was convinced that his older brother had not slept at all the previous night… and now he was beginning to doubt that Edward would get any sleep this night as well.

So much had happened. So much that they had yet to explain or understand. With Winry and Dr. Knox constantly working with Lan Fan, they had yet to explain anything to them… Not that they knew what to say anyways. It would only be a matter of time before Winry's focus when from her patient back to the two brothers. And when that happened, Alphonse wasn't sure _what_ they would say.

All they knew was that the Colonel and Lieutenant were clearly still there and fighting against the Homunculi that had somehow taken control of their bodies. They had passed information, but only enough to leave more questions than answers; questions that were proving to be almost too much for the brothers.

How were they taken? Who was Father? Was it possible to free the Colonel and Lieutenant? So many questions, and so few answers…

But all Alphonse wanted at that moment was to talk to Edward, to see where his brother was mentally after the way that meeting had gone…

"Brother," Alphonse began, just as a soft, yet distinct sound sliced through the nighttime air. Jumping, Alphonse turned toward the noise just as Edward took a step forward and took on a fighting stance.

Glaring into the darkness, Edward growled, "Who's there?"

Squinting his soul-fire eyes, Alphonse was able to make out two shapes heading toward them; one of them massive and walking heavily, the other petite and virtually silent.

As Alphonse readied himself to fight as well, a familiar voice rang through the air.

"Just a simple housewife."

Relaxing his stance immediately, he watched as Izumi and Sig Curtis stepped out of the darkness and into the glow of the streetlamp above them. Folding her arms across her chest, she then remarked, "Now, is that any way to greet your former teacher?"

* * *

 **A/N** : _Fear not! Roy and Riza are not gone, although things are about to get a lot more interesting. Expect Scar and May to appear next chapter, and expect a showdown to happen..._

 _Again, thank you for all of the favorites, follows, and reviews so far! You are all so wonderful and supportive!_


	6. Chapter 6

**A/N:** _I figured I'd do a quick author's note here in response to guest user "Lord Nitro's" ask regarding whether or not Lust could use her Philosopher's Stone in a way similar to Envy in order to resemble her original form. I definitely think she could, although being and looking like Riza Hawkeye has its benefits (like keeping Roy in line, taunting her loved ones, or remaining hidden while roaming military command). I'd imagine that it would just be tedious to do every time she was alone or in another place to, having to revert from one look to the next. So for relative ease and for saving energy, she would probably just stick with looking like Riza. And if anyone else saw her looking like that, I'd imagine Lust would have no problem killing them ._.;;_

 _Thank you for the ask and I hope you're enjoying so far!_

 _P.S. Thank you to everyone that reviewed thus far, especially guest reviewers Cerys and n071 last chapter!_

* * *

When Edward did not immediately retort something in response, Izumi furrowed her brows and took a step toward him. "Boys," she began as she looked from the elder to the younger, "What's wrong? What did your call—"

"Wait," Edward muttered as he looked up at her, his expression worn and his face looking aged, "Let's discuss this at another place. Please, Teacher."

Izumi promptly closed her mouth, eyeing the young boy with newfound intent. Not only did he look exhausted and weary; no, there was a sadness in his eyes that she had only seen once before: When he had explained that fateful night so many years ago now.

And coupled with that sadness was another emotion, one she knew all too well. One she saw on his face every time the thought of that night crossed his mind. There was exhaustion. There was sadness. And there was guilt.

Heeding the boy's request, Izumi nodded and fell into step beside them as they led she and Sig down the street they had begun to turn onto and toward the one house that had its porch light on.

* * *

Rebecca had been getting tended to when she heard them bring him in. Jumping to her feet, she knocked the small tray table over that held the bandages and gauze one of the bargirls has been using to wrap her neck. Muttering a quick apology and a promise to clean it up in a few minutes, Rebecca was halfway to the door when a hand caught her wrist. Whirling around, she saw the girl, who had introduced herself as Clara, firmly holding her wrist, a frown gracing her delicate features.

After seeing Rebecca's worried expression, however, Clara's face softened. "I know you're worried, Miss Catalina, but if I could keep you here for just one more moment I won't need you again."

Swallowing the lump that had formed in her throat, Rebecca at last muttered, "Alright," in reply. Even though she could hear his voice wafting toward her ears from upstairs, she reluctantly moved back over to the seat she had been in and dropped to her knees, hurriedly picking up the medical supplies she had knocked to the ground. A moment later Clara got down next to her and offered her a small smile before helping to gather everything else.

Raising to her feet, she slipped into the chair again and dropped the supplies on the tray table as Clara righted it again. Leaning forward and bracing her elbows against her knees, she waited impatiently as the girl dabbed alcohol onto a cotton swab. When she reached up and pressed it against the side of Rebecca's neck, however, Rebecca let out a sudden hiss of pain.

"I'm sorry," the girl squeaked as she pulled the cotton ball away, "I didn't realize it would hurt you so much."

"No, it's fine," Rebecca said as she shook her head and leaned forward again, "I guess I just wasn't expecting it to be as big as it felt."

Shooting her an empathetic smile, the girl admitted, "It is a decent size, Miss Catalina. That's why I wanted to get it bandaged quickly."

"Right," the brunette murmured passively as Clara pressed the cotton swab to her neck. This time, however, she felt nothing.

 _It_ is _a decent size…_ She honestly hadn't thought that the wounds on either side of her neck were that large. Then again, she hadn't looked in a mirror or paid much notice to it since she had gotten to the inconspicuous little tavern. But if they were as 'decently-sized' as the girl said they were… then that meant Lust really had gone for the kill.

She nearly died… and at her best friend's hand too.

And yet, in a strange way the entire situation brought her a small sense of comfort. Lust had gone for the kill – had fully intended on it – and yet she couldn't because Riza stopped her. That meant there was still hope, right? Right-?

"All finished."

Blinking a few times, Rebecca pulled herself out of her thoughts and focused on Clara, who was smiling toward her.

"I'm all finished," she said again as she set the roll of bandages on the tray table.

Reaching up, Rebecca confirmed that there was an ample amount of gauze and bandages wrapped around her throat. Brushing her fingers across the front and to the side of her neck, she could feel where the wound was, as well as the layers of gauze pads that were placed on top one another to absorb any blood that might escape the wound.

"Thank you," she murmured as she pulled her hand away. "I really appreciate it."

"No problem," Clara said with a light smile. Pushing the tray table over to the side, she invited Rebecca to stand.

Flashing her one more smile, Rebecca stepped around her and began to make her way toward the voices she had been hearing. Pausing in the doorway, she rested a hand on the doorframe and strained to listen. After a few moments of listening, she determined that the voices were coming from upstairs. Gripping the railing, she slowly eased her way up the staircase. Almost immediately the voices hushed as their owners too stopped to listen. Clearing her throat, she called, "It's just me guys," as she made it to the top.

Not giving her eyes enough time to adjust to the room's poor lighting, she instantly honed in on the sandy-haired individual propped upright on the small single bed that was pushed into the corner before realizing that there were three other men in addition to him in the room. Keeping her focus on him, however, she began to make her way over to his bed.

The men parted and made a small path for her as the corners of Jean's lip tugged upward. When she had made her way past them, they muttered something under their breaths, most likely a 'see you later' or some words of parting, to which he replied by saying something else. Honestly she hadn't heard. She was too focused on her relief; too focused on him. After making it to his bed, Rebecca heard the last of the three men mill out, closing the door behind them to give Jean and her the privacy they needed to speak.

"Hey," she murmured as she sat down on the edge of the bed, "Sorry I didn't call. As you probably heard, things got a little—" She trailed off, however, when she realized that he wasn't listening, his eyes transfixed on her neck. Suddenly feeling self-conscious about the bandages, she reached up to touch them when he shifted and propped himself up on his elbow. Using his free hand, he brushed his fingers over the gauze and wrappings before pressing his palm against her hand.

Looking back at him, her face fell, seeing that his expression had changed drastically. "Jean…?"

She watched as he swallowed thickly, his face contorting with pain as his eyes wandered up to hers.

"Je—"

"I'm sorry," he choked out as his fingers curled around her hand. "I just let you go and look what happened."

Her face softening, she shook her head and began to say, "There isn't anything to be sorry for. I—"

"There's everything to be sorry for," he cried out in exasperation. "I let you go alone and you were nearly killed because of it." Pulling away from her and falling back against the pillows that were propping him up, he laid his arm over his eyes and uttered, "If I could actually move these damn legs, then maybe I would have been there to protect you."

"Jean," she tried to console him, "What do you mean by that? There's nothing you could have—"

"I've felt those spears, Rebecca. I know what they're capable of. She… she could have cut your head off!"

Reaching forward and grabbing his hand and pulling his arm away from his eyes, she held it between her own and eyed him confidently. "But she didn't, Jean. She didn't because it's just like you said. Riza is still in there. She's _fighting_."

"I know that," he uttered, "Because you're here right now. But… But if something had happened and she didn't protect you, where would you be now?"

Her face softening, she said, "I know, Jean. I know. But you need to understand that what's done is done. It's over… but I'm still here."

Swallowing the lump that had formed in his throat, he replied, "I know… But the thought of what could have happened is what's killing me, Becks. It's because I let you go alone that this even happened!"

"Would you feel better if I took one of the guys with me every time I went out? Knowing that I was with someone?"

Casting his glare down and toward his idle legs, he murmured, "It would, yes. But," he continued as he raised his eyes to meet hers, "I wish it were me."

Feeling her hold on his hand loosen, she felt him pull away. Instead of gripping the sheets or laying his arms across his eyes, however, he reached up and brushed his fingers across her cheek. Understanding this motion, she moved closer and bowed her head as he pushed himself upward and onto his elbow once more. Leaning his head forward, he rested his forehead against hers and uttered, "I wish it were me…"

* * *

When they reached Dr. Knox's house, Edward did not even bother to knock. Instead, he clumsily reached out and fumbled around with the door handle before grasping it tightly and turning it to open it.

The moment he walked in, he was instantly greeted by a very concerned Winry Rockbell. "Ed, Al, where have you two—" She stopped herself, however, when she looked Edward in the eye. Taking a step forward, she murmured, "Ed…?"

That's when she noticed too that the boys were not alone. With a small gasp, she took a step back and watched as Edward led his brother and the two strangers inside.

Rather than passing her, Izumi stopped and said, "You must be Winry Rockbell. We've heard a lot about you from Ed and Al." Extending her hand to the young girl, she added, "My name is Izumi Curtis and this is my husband, Sig. We're both—"

"Oh," Winry said in recognition, "You're Ed and Al's alchemy teachers."

"That's right," Izumi said with a small nod.

"It's nice to meet you," Winry murmured, "Although… I don't remember Ed saying you two were coming. If I had remembered, I would have cleaned up a bit and—"

"It was last minute," Edward muttered as he shoved his hands in his pockets. "I called them here because I needed to discuss something important with Teacher."

Clearly seeing that Edward was trying to herd them toward the living room, Izumi suggested, "How about we go and sit down?"

"You can follow me," Alphonse proposed, taking the lead and ushering Izumi and Sig toward Dr. Knox's couches and chairs.

Just as Edward was about to follow, Winry grasped his arm and pulled him back toward her. When he looked back at her, he saw a look of concern cross her features. "Ed," she asked quietly, as to not alert the newcomers to their conversation, "What is this about? Is this related to the reason why you haven't been around these past couple of days?"

"It is," he admitted after a few moments. "You don't have to stay if you don't want to; I'll understand. I can tell you about it later if you want."

Giving his arm a light squeeze, she said, "Ed, I've been worried about you. I need to stay because I want to know."

Almost feeling as if a weight had been lifted from his shoulders, he allowed his shoulders to sag as he said, "Alright, just… Just wait for me to finish before saying anything. I just really want to get through it as quickly as possible."

"Okay," she replied as she loosened her grip on his arm, allowing him to pull it free.

Taking a step away from her, he allowed her to lead him into the living room. Just as he took a seat on one of the couches next to Teacher and across from Winry, Dr. Knox appeared in the doorway.

Pulling out the toothpick he had wedged between his lips, he eyed every individual in the room before muttering, "Ah, more guests. Please make yourself at home."

"Sorry," Alphonse apologized from his seat next to Winry, "But we had to call them. We need to talk to them as soon as we can."

Raising his brows, Knox grumbled, "Is this about what that girl, Lan Fan, said?" When Al nodded, the doctor dipped his head in understanding. Sinking down into the armchair nearest his fireplace, he said, "The sedatives just took hold again, so I've got a moment." Replacing the toothpick, he added, "I'd like to hear what you have to say."

Seeing that everyone had settled themselves and had shown no signs of moving or leaving, Ed sighed. While he was thankful that he wouldn't have to explain it for the second time that day, he was also unsure of how to approach telling them. Last time he had Mustang's men to help ease him into the story for the General and Madame, but now it was just Al and him.

He decided, however, that he would approach it the way he had originally intended to with Teacher: By having her recall what she did know first.

"Do you remember when we fought that person in Dublith?"

Izumi furrowed her brows. "You mean that one that claimed to be a Homunculus, right," she asked for clarification as she folded her arms and sat back on the couch.

"Yeah," he cleared up as he leaned forward and braced his elbows on his knees, entwining his steel and flesh fingers. After looking down at them for a few moments, still struggling with the words in his head, he glanced up to see that her focus was intently on him. Letting go a slow sigh, he continued, "There's more than one out there."

"More," she asked as she furrowed her brows. "How many more?"

Edward moved his shoulders up and down and admitted, "I can't say for sure. But since Dublith we've encountered at least three more."

"Three," she echoed back. When he nodded, she added, "Is that the reason you called? Because there are more of them?"

"In a way, yes."

Seemingly utterly confused by his response, Izumi continued to leer at him, her expression demanding that he elaborate.

Feeling his shoulders slump as another breath escaped him, Edward then murmured, "Have you ever heard of the possibility that a Philosopher's Stone could have a consciousness? A personality or disposition that it could take on?"

Her lips turned downward in a frown as she mulled over the likelihood and possibility in her mind. He could see that she was considering it, genuinely thinking about it. That was good. It meant that she was, at the very least, willing to think about the possibility. But after a minute of concentrated thought, she shook her head and admitted, "I haven't heard of something like that; I suppose it isn't outside the realm of possibility. But," she continued as her confusion grew, "I don't understand what you're getting at, Edward."

"I seem all over the place, I know," he said with a half-hearted smile, "But I'm getting to it, I promise. I figured I'd see if you had any information before I went on."

After she slowly shook her head again to convey that she did not have anything to give him, he said, "Since our journey began, Al and I have seen Stones that have ranged from a solid mass to a viscous liquid." Looking up and toward Al and focusing on his brother's soul-fire eyes, he continued, "We've even seen them working as a functional core, like a heart."

When Izumi focused her attention on her younger pupil, Alphonse nodded and said, "It's true. Colonel Mustang almost killed one by depleting its Stone of its power."

"Almost," Izumi mused as she looked between the two brothers.

"Yeah," Edward clarified as she focused on him once more, "Almost.

"So now imagine that the viscous form of the Stone is injected into a person's vein, allowing it to mix in with and spread throughout the body. If the Stone has a consciousness like we believe it does and it circulates throughout every part of the body, then you think there'd be a chance that it could completely take over. And if so, what could be done to remove it."

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Dr. Knox's lips part slightly as his expression changed to one of realization. If he knew what Edward was getting at, surely she would see it too. So when he looked at his teacher, he was not surprised to see that her expression mirrored the doctor's. "So what you're telling me," she began slowly, "Is that you think there is a chance a Homunculus could be created using a human being?"

"I don't think 'there's a chance,'" he replied, "Because I _know_ that it's possible, and now I want to know if you think it's possible to reverse it."

Izumi opened her mouth to respond but then shut it, only to open it again and say, "How do you know it's possible?"

"Do you think there's a way of reversing it," he asked desperately.

"Edward," she started again, "How do you know it's possible?"

"I want to know if you think it's—"

"Edward," she snapped, done with his attempts at avoiding the subject, "I need you to tell me how you know it's possible, _then_ I will tell you my thoughts."

At last coming to the part of the conversation he was dreading, Edward turned his focus down to his hands, which here folded in his lap. Out of the corner of his eye he could see Al doing the same, entwining his massive gloved fingers together in anxious anticipation of Edward's response.

Up until that point he had distanced himself from the reality of the situation by focusing on the alchemical process he had devised in his mind. He had spent what seemed like countless hours engrossed in the topic, constantly turning it over and changing it in his mind until he was at last pleased with the scenario. But now, hearing Teacher's demands for how he knew it was possible brought him back to the situation, making it all the more real once again.

This wasn't just a hypothesis he made up for laughs or speculation; no, it was a possibility, a reality. Something that was real and tangible. This was about Mustang and Hawkeye and how to save them.

"Edward…"

He looked up, only to find that Teacher had kneeled in front of him, her hands on both of his shoulders. Blinking once, twice, her worried expression came into better focus as his eyes adjusted to the change.

"You're dodging the question, Ed," she said softly. "I need you to please tell me how you know this to be true, because you seem to have thought about this a lot since I talked to you on the phone."

Casting his glance toward Al, he saw that his younger brother was watching him intently, though he had not made a move to answer. Slowly letting his eyes wander around the room, he saw that Winry, Dr. Knox, and Sig all had their eyes on him. Then he allowed himself to face Izumi again, although he directed his gaze toward the floor. Finally letting go of the breath he hadn't realized he was holding, Edward murmured, "My commanding officer and his first Lieutenant. It happened to them."

Immediately following his statement, he heard a quiet gasp. Turning his head, he saw Winry with her hands clapped over her mouth, her eyes wide with shock. Though she wasn't knowledgeable in alchemy and many of its properties, he knew that she was aware of the presence of the Homunculi; especially after that encounter where Al was nearly shredded to pieces by…

Pushing the thought away, he looked away from her, seeing that Dr. Knox too seemed shocked. His mouth was hanging open slightly, surprise reflected in his dark eyes. He out of the others in the room was the next person besides Edward himself and Alphonse to know that the possibility was there, especially after seeing Lan Fan's reaction to that picture in the newspaper of Mustang and his men. Still, the doctor's expression also told Edward that he didn't want it to be true.

"Edward…"

Looking back toward Teacher, he saw something he didn't expect to see in her eyes: pain. Whether it was for the situation or for him, he wasn't sure. Maneuvering him so that she could see his face more clearly, she uttered, "You're sure? You're absolutely sure that it was them and not someone impersonating them?"

"Yeah," he muttered as he bobbed his head languidly. "We're sure it's them. They… they managed to talk to us."

"Talk to you," she asked softly.

Again he nodded. "They managed to break free for a few moments to warn us…" Looking into her eyes for the first time that evening, he said, "I know it's them."

"When did you see them," she gently pried.

"The other day." Edward watched as Izumi turned toward the metallic voice that interrupted them. Seeing that their attention was now on him, Alphonse looked down and began to anxiously rub his gloved hands together, then went on. "The other day in the Colonel's office… We saw them alter between the Homunculi and themselves. They tried to tell us what they could and," he added as his voice grew quiet, "They told us to 'end them.'"

"And there's no way we could do that," Edward cried as he balled his hands into fists. "There's no way!"

"Ed… Al," Izumi said as she looked between the two boys. "? You clearly have what happened worked out, or at least a very believable possibility. But did you stop to think that maybe they know something you don't? That maybe there isn't—"

"Don't say that!" Leaping up from his seat, Edward glared down at his teacher in disbelief. "We've heard it time and time again. 'Nothing is impossible…' We need to at least believe that if we want to find a way!"

Izumi opened her mouth to say something, but something about his expression or words stopped her from saying what words had immediately come to her mind. After closing her mouth and reflecting on what he had said, she got to her feet and put her hands on his shoulders again. "Is that what you've been doing since you called me, Ed?" Before he could answer, she continued, "I can see it in your eyes. You haven't slept since then, have you?"

He should have known that she'd be as perceptive as ever. Casting his eyes away from her face, he lied, "Yeah, I've slept a little…"

From the corner of his eye he could see her frown. She caught him. It figured. But instead of scolding him and calling him out on his little lie or bringing up the fact that they were part of the military she despised, she simply shook her head slowly and said, "They're obviously very important to you, Ed."

"They don't deserve it," he muttered, keeping his glare fixed on the floorboards. "They don't deserve being prisoners in their own bodies." Clenching his fists in an attempt to stop them from shaking, he growled, "It isn't fair."

With a sigh, she pulled him into her, and for once he did not fight her. Instead, he rested his head on her shoulder and shuddered. Raising a hand, she gently pressed his head against her shoulder as she freed her other hand and silently invited Alphonse, who had gotten to his feet, over to them.

Edward heard the clambering, metallic steps as his brother wandered over to them and stopped. Then he heard him creak and groan as he bowed his head forward.

Oblivious to the cool metal and uncomfortable angle the young boy was standing at, Izumi wrapped her arm around his body and cradled his head against her other shoulder, embracing the two young boys.

"You can say what you want about the military," Edward muttered into her shirt, "But they don't deserve it. I… I won't let them die."

"I know," she replied. "I'll admit that I don't know anything about this, certainly not as much as you; but if you believe there's a chance then I will help any way that I can."

"… Thank you," he murmured as he pulled away.

Just as she was about to reply, Edward saw something over her shoulder and in the hallway. Feeling the hair on the back of his neck stand on end, he zeroed in on it, only to discover that it was Fu.

Seeing that Edward had spotted him, the old man grumbled, "You said that your friends had been taken by those monsters, right?" When Ed furrowed his brows and dipped his head in acknowledgement, Fu continued, "Then I ask that you free Master Ling as well. For he too was taken by them."

* * *

They had searched high and low for days now, and there was still no sign of the young Xingese girl's small, furry friend. With each passing day, Scar had found himself growing less and less certain that they would find her, whereas the young girl's determination only seemed to grow.

"She has to be around here somewhere! She wouldn't just disappear," May reasoned as she led him down the same alleyway they had explored the day before.

Rather than argue with her, knowing that it would fall on deaf ears, Scar willingly trudged along behind her, having decided that this would be the final day they searched. There were more pressing matters to attend to…

Just as they passed by a large drainpipe, Scar froze, something bright red catching his eye. Taking a step back, he saw a copious amount of dried blood on its inner surface, the rest of it that would have been on the outside having been washed away with the previous day's rain. Stooping down next to it, he reached into it and swept his fingers over it, confirming that it was old and dried.

Still, something pressed for him to advance. Ducking down, he crept into the tunnel, finding that, while it was tight, he would be able to advance without getting stuck.

"Mr. Scar?"

Turning to look over his shoulder, he saw May looking toward him warily.

Nodding down to the floor to make the blood stain known to her, he muttered, "You may continue searching if you wish. There is something that needs to be tended to."

"So you sense it too," she asked as she reached up to wipe away the sweat that had accumulated on her brow. She must have seen a faint look of surprise cross his features, because she followed up by murmuring, "There's something down there… And it's big."

* * *

Despite warning the girl against following him, Scar soon found himself leading her through the airshafts that ran below the city's surface. In a fit of desperation, she had convinced herself that if her furry companion was not above ground, then perhaps she was below. Maybe she had sensed that presence, whatever it was, and had followed it in the hopes that her owner would do the same?

At least that's what he had determined after listening to her reason with herself for the past ten minutes. So when she grew quiet, he immediately stopped and turned to look over his shoulder at her.

"Hello?"

That voice… A man's?

Seeing that she was looking down through the grating she had stopped on, Scar backtracked to do the same.

Indeed, there was a man down below, his head craned back and looking directly up at them. "Hello," he called again, "Is someone there?"

May opened her mouth to speak, but a hardened glare from Scar caused her to exhale and clamp her jaw shut. However, that small gasp alerted the man to their presence.

"Are you from the outside? How did you get in here?!"

Realizing that they had been discovered, and sensing that the man could do little harm to them, Scar growled, "First tell me about yourself. Who are you? And what are you doing down here?"

An expression of relief and shock spread across the man's features. "My name's Dr. Mauro. I want to know what's going on outside. Please come down."

Clenching his jaw, Scar hesitated to answer him back. The young girl, however, had no problem doing that. "Are you a prisoner?"

Surprised that there were two individuals rather than one, 'Dr. Mauro' said, "Yes, I am. But please come down. The guard won't be coming around for a while."

Hearing the sound of metal scraping against metal, Scar looked up in time to see that May had pushed the grating away and was already dropping down from their hiding place to meet the man. Following after, he landed next to her and slowly rose to his feet, watching the man's eyes scan from May over to him.

"A young Xingese girl," 'Dr. Mauro' muttered, "And an Ishvalan." A beat later, however, his eyes widened. "An Ishvalan with a scar on his forehead?! Are you 'Scar,' the one who's been killing all the State Alchemists?"

"… So they call me," Scar replied hardly.

The man stood transfixed for a moment, processing the information in his mind. Then, much to their surprise, he began to laugh, burying his face into his hands. "My god…"

"What is a doctor doing here," May asked as she began to look around the room, looking for signs of her companion.

"Are you being detained," Scar asked, allowing the girl to continue to search as the man pulled his hands away from his face.

"Yes," he said as he looked down at his shaking hands. "They force me to cooperate. And they're going to use me even more."

At the vague mention of 'they,' Scar's thoughts turned to the creatures they had encountered, especially the one they encountered recently: Mustang's subordinate, the woman with the healing wound. "With those 'things' called Homunculi," he asked. "What are they? They seem to know everything about the Ishvalan Civil War."

'Dr. Mauro' nodded. "It's true. They control this country from the shadows. Their power is overwhelming, their methods a mystery.

"I… I hate myself for letting them take me without even putting up a fight!"

Coming back into the conversation, May quipped, "If you don't want to join them, Dr. Mauro, why not escape and fight them? We could lead you outside and away from here."

"I can't do that," he cried as his hands relaxed and fell to his side, his head bowing in shame. "An entire village is being held hostage. Last time I tried to hide from them, I took refuge under a new name in a small eastern village. That's how they were able to pressure me.

"They vowed that if I tried to escape or even kill myself… They'll destroy the entire village." Sinking to the ground and folding his hands in his lap, he uttered, "And no, it's not just a threat. I have no doubt they would. So please don't take me out with you…"

Feeling anger bubbling within him, Scar growled, "My people have been all put wiped out. Do you honestly think I would feel pity over a story like that?"

"I know," the man admitted. "You must truly hate us. That's why I have a favor to ask of you…" Closing his eyes, he swallowed thickly and uttered, "I want you to kill me." Ignoring May's gasp, he opened his eyes and looked up at Scar. "My real name is Tim Marcoh. I am the alchemist who created the Philosopher's Stone that led to the murder of your people."

Upon hearing those words, Scar felt his insides begin to churn.

"My research has taken the lives of countless Ishvalans. I am your nemesis. Whether I refuse to cooperate with the Homunculi or choose to take my own life, innocent villagers will be killed. Undoubtedly, even if I continue to live, I'll be utilized as a 'sacrifice' and contribute to the slaughter of countless more people.

"So please," he begged quietly, "Allow the girl to leave and kill me. If I'm killed by an intruder from the outside, the lives of the villagers can be saved. And if I'm dead, them my captors' plan can be thwarted… Or at the very least delayed.

"It is a stroke of luck that you, an alchemist assassin, arrived here when I was alone and powerless…"

Looking up at him once more, he continued, "Scar… I see a deity in you. Kill me! Right here and now! I will atone for my sins with death—"

No longer able to control the rage he had pent up, Scar lunged forward and grabbed Marcoh's face, slamming him into the ground. Pushing May off of his arm and ignoring her scream, he seethed, "I still haven't heard the full story about Ishval yet! What were you bastards really doing there?! Tell me everything Marcoh, _before_ my right hand destroys you!"

* * *

"I'm surprised," 'the General' mused as he leaned back against his desk and eyed the three men that remained sitting at theirs. "I thought you had resigned, seeing that you all failed to show up yesterday."

"We had a good reason not to," Breda growled as he eyed the Homunculus warily. "And besides, we all called in."

"True," 'Mustang' said with a mild shrug, "And I have to say that I'm impressed you came back so quickly. After all, I'd imagine this must be difficult for you to process."

Not giving him the satisfaction he craved, Breda grumbled, "Well, someone has to watch out for the Colonel."

"How sweet," he muttered sarcastically as he folded his arms over his chest. Casting his glance toward Fuery, he added, "Holding up alright, _Sergeant_?"

Upon being addressed, the younger man, who had been staring down at his desk the entire time, managed to nod quickly, muttering a soft "yes" in reply.

"That's wonderful to hear," the Homunculus responded with feigned sympathy. "And speaking of someone holding up alright, there seems to be a certain someone missing from the hospital today." Looking from Breda to Falman, the Homunculus scoffed, "You two wouldn't happen to know where Jean Havoc might be, would you?"

Shrugging in reply, Breda uttered, "I dunno. Maybe his family took him out for a prolonged stroll. He did mention that the hospital air was a bit stuffy." Seeing that Wrath was clearly unamused by his antics, the Second Lieutenant decided that it was his turn to pry. "So," he asked as he eyed 'the General' critically, "Where's our favorite lieutenant?"

A sinister smile spread across the Homunculus's features as he replied, "The Lieutenant is running a few errands today."

* * *

As Marcoh finished his tale and grew quiet, Scar quietly folded his arms across his chest and glared at him. May, sensing the sheer amount of disgust radiating off of him, had wisely decided to sit quietly, her hands woven together and in her lap.

After allowing the silence to continue on and after he had processed what the doctor told him, Scar rumbled, "So the Stone that was used to massacre my people was created out of the lives of other Ishvalans?" When Marcoh looked up at him, Scar could clearly see the confirmation and guilt in his eyes. Feeling that swell of anger consume him once more, he sprang up again, and grabbed Marcoh by the collar of his shift and hoisted him into the air. He heard the young girl cry out again, but he elected to ignore her once more.

"You forced my countrymen to kill their own people! Don't _think_ I'm going to let you die so easily!"

"I understand," Marcoh gasped, "I'll do _anything_ to atone my sins."

Clenching his teeth and turning his head away, Scar slammed Marcoh to the ground and stumbled over to the wall, the anger and hurt consuming him. Pounding his fist against the wall, he leaned forward and began to breathe heavily, trying to push everything down as his mind began to clear… and his thoughts began to race.

There was still so much more he did not know… And that could not be done here.

He heard May patter over to the man and whisper something to him, most likely helping him sit up. After taking a final, deep breath, he uttered, "Marcoh," as he turned around. "Tell me more about the alchemist named Kimblee."

Genuinely surprised by Scar's question, the doctor stammered, "Ah… Alright."

"Also," he continued as he slowly unclenched his fists, "There was one section of my brother's research that I could not decipher. Before he died, he told me that there was something strange about this country's alchemy. I'm guessing that is what he wrote in his notes.

"You are a skilled alchemist. Can you decipher it?"

"'There's something strange about this country's alchemy,'" Marcoh repeated back to him as he rubbed his chin thoughtfully, turning away from Scar and May to think. Then, jerking his head upward, he said, "I'll try."

"Good," Scar replied, "Now I'm breaking you—"

"What's this," a new voice suddenly purred.

Snapping his head around and toward the voice, he saw Mustang's subordinate, the blonde-haired woman, step forward from the shadows as a second, larger shape crept up to stop behind her.

Grinning widely as her gloved fingers elongated and took on the shape of spears, she mused, "Leaving so soon?"

* * *

Another sleepless night had visited Edward again. This time, however, he knew he wasn't alone. Despite everyone going off in their respective directions after Fu explained his encounter with Ling. While Edward was relieved knowing that he was still alive, he also knew that, judging by the encounter Fu had described, he too had been taken. Just like the Colonel and Lieutenant.

When they reconvened in the morning, Edward could see the tiredness in their eyes.

Even Winry looked exhausted, her eyes slightly reddened and her expression solemn as she made her way down the stairs that morning. But before Edward could even begin to console her, Dr. Knox announced that they had run out of gauze and bandages. With his upcoming shift, however, it was impossible to for him to depart and pick up the necessary supplies while still finishing his morning treatments for Lan Fan.

So now here they were; himself, Alphonse, Izumi, and Winry. The four of them were making the trip to the nearest supply store in order to stock up on as much supplies as possible, because for now it was too dangerous to go alone.

As they rounded the corner and onto the street their destination was on, the round beneath their feet trembled as an explosion tore through the air.

Leaving Izumi and Winry behind, Edward and Al raced ahead and turned down the first alley they came upon and came to a halt. The buildings on the opposite end of the narrow road were no longer standing, reduced to a pile of rubbish and bricks. Standing atop the pile, grinning down at the two figures standing at the bottom, was Hawkeye – no, Edward reminded himself – Lust. And beside her, hunched over and regenerating from the explosion, was Gluttony.

Approaching the two figures, Edward immediately recognized them as the young Xingese girl they had encountered days before… and Scar. But as he got closer, he also saw another person; one partially covered in bricks any lying just beyond the rubble.

Just as they skidded to a stop a few meters behind Scar and the young girl, Lust looked up at them and smirked. "Well, isn't this a surprise? I figured you'd be too busy looking for a way to free the Colonel and Lieutenant." Narrowing her eyes playfully, she added, "I guess I was wrong."

"Hawkeye," Edward cried as he took a step forward, "Are you there? Answer me if you—"

He was cut off as she laughed. "The Lieutenant won't be coming out to play for a while, I'm afraid. She's far too spent to even say 'hello.'" Hearing the additional sound of footsteps approaching them, she looked past the two boys and smiled. "It seems you've brought company. It's a shame you had to visit while I was working. Why don't you come back after I've taken care of Scar?"

At the mention of his name, the man lunged forward and toward her. Before he made it halfway up to them, Gluttony launched itself at the Ishvalan man, his jaws wide and ready to latch down on his perceived prey.

Much to the beast's surprise, however, the scarred man effortlessly dodged his jaw and slammed his right hand against its head. A beat later a series of blue sparks rocked through its body before tearing through it, blasting it to pieces.

Panic and fear immediately took hold of Edward as he instinctively rushed forward, now seeing who Scar's real target was.

Extending his hand as he began to dart up the pile of rubble and toward Scar, he watched in horror as the man dodged Lust's attach, wrapping his hand around her throat as her eyes widened with shock.

Even though Edward knew of their regenerative capabilities, something inside of him caused him to react, the vision of Hawkeye being killed dangling before his mind's eye. He couldn't have that. Couldn't allow it.

No… He would not let this happen.

As Scar's tell-tale blue sparks began to flit around his arm, Edward cried, "Stop," as he closed in on them.

Hearing his cry, he saw Scar flinch and hesitate. That hesitation, however, proved to be the man's downfall as Edward watched Lust's spears pierce through his abdomen.

* * *

 **A/N:** _Next chapter expect more of this confrontation, as well as an exploration of Ishval, from a few different points of view! (And don't fear too much regarding Scar... I think he's important. Just saying...). And there will be more of Riza and Roy next chapter..._

 _Again, thank you for all of the favorites, follows, and reviews so far. You guys are wonderful!_


	7. Chapter 7

**Quick A/N:** _Some graphic scenes in here (especially the Ishval ones) which you can skip. They involve graphic descriptions of the deceased. Also, more of the Ishval scenes will play out later, but I want to get this fic going faster…_

* * *

Though his grip on the Lieutenant's neck had loosened considerably, Scar was still able to discharge enough power to damage the side of her neck. Retracting her claws with an audible hiss, Lust drew back and grasped her neck as blood began to pour from her wound.

As Scar began to stumble backwards, Edward managed to catch a glimpse of a regenerated Gluttony lunging toward them. In a split second decision Edward grabbed the stunned Ishvalan man and dove out of the way, missing the beast's jaws by inches.

When the gluttonous creature pounced again, a succession of throwing knives plunged themselves into its stomach. Skidding to a stop confusedly, Gluttony frantically began to try and remove them when a series of lines sprouted from them and ran across its abdomen, forming the shape of a star. A beat later they ignited, the resulting explosion throwing it back as it screeched in pain.

Looking over his shoulder as he dragged the wounded man away from the action, Edward saw the small Xingese girl standing over an array similar to the one that had formed on Gluttony's stomach, her eyes narrowed and focused on the enemy.

Behind her was Al and Winry, the pair helping the third person in Scar's party stagger to his feet.

But there was one that wasn't among them amidst the chaos…

Seeing a flash of black and white dash past him, Edward whipped his head around in time to see Teacher dart forward and toward Lust. "Wait," he yelped as Izumi clapped her hands and glided her fingertips across one of the walls of the partially collapsed buildings as she ran.

Just as Lust had regained her footing after being attacked by Scar, a stone and mortar hand formed from the wall Izumi had transmuted and slammed into her, hurling her against the opposite building's wall and pinning her there as she cried out in pain and shock.

Skidding to a stop in front of Scar and Edward, Izumi clapped her hands again, this time deconstructing the bricks that lay around them and reforming them into a massive and thickened wall, strategically erecting it between the two opposing sides. Whirling around to look down at Edward, she barked, "Everyone _move_!"

Edward's eyes immediately darted to the wall that stood behind her, still sparking with alchemical energy. For a moment every fiber of his being was tensed and he sat frozen, Hawkeye's pained yell echoing in his head. The attack, though effective, was brutal; its force capable of crushing numerous bones. Despite knowing that a Homunculus' body was able to regenerate, he still couldn't help but be filled with an overwhelming amount of despair.

"Edward!"

Snapping his eyes back up, he saw that Izumi had draped Scar's arm over her shoulder and had hoisted the man to his feet, her dark eyes focused on Edward.

Looking past her, he saw that Winry, Alphonse, the Xingese girl, and the other man that had been with her and Scar were already at the end of the alleyway.

Dragging himself up onto his knees and then his feet, he was immediately pulled forward and down the narrow lane, Teacher towing him behind her as the injured Ishvalan man stumbled beside her. When they turned the corner, she shoved Scar toward Alphonse and barked for him to carry him. But before one of them could argue against it, she ordered it again, the urgency now ringing in her voice.

That's when Edward noticed the massive amount of blood that was pouring from the Ishvalan man's wounds. While he wasn't well-versed in human anatomy, he ha done enough research before about it to understand that a series of important blood vessels ran through the abdomen. And if any of them were nicked or sliced through, it would only take minutes before he bled out.

Teacher did not know the entire history between the four of them, and Edward doubted she would take too kindly to him refusing to take the injured man with them.

Alphonse, albeit reluctantly, scooped Scar into his arms and quickly began to follow after Winry and Izumi as they looped their arms around the other man and took off. But before Edward followed, he cast his glance over his shoulder to see that the wall remained intact, no movement around it whatsoever. Something inside of him stirred and urged him to go back, to be sure that Hawkeye was safe. But his head told him what his heart kept denying: she, and the Colonel, were not themselves. It wasn't them. The Homunculi's control was powerful, and he doubted he would be able to get the Colonel and Lieutenant to reappear again… at least not now. Balling his hands into fists, he reluctantly turned away and sprinted after the group, who was already at the end of the road and turning the corner.

When he caught up with them, Izumi stopped in front of an abandoned storefront and clapped her hands together. Grabbing the door handle, she transmuted the lock and popped the door open, hurriedly ushering everyone inside. As soon as they all were she slammed the door closed and slapped her hands onto the ground, causing the floorboards to shift and rise, forming a wall in front of the windows that extended to the ceiling, leaving only enough room for a meager amount of light to trickle in.

"Mr. Scar!"

Whirling around, Edward watched as the young Xingese girl ran her hands along Scar's stomach frantically, clawing at his shirt to try and lift it up over the wounds. Then, much to his surprise, he saw Winry step forward and collapse onto her knees beside the young girl. Tugging Scar's shirt up to reveal his abdomen, she helped the young girl glide her hands over to the damage Lust had inflicted.

"Let me see."

Turning toward the voice, Edward saw the other man walking toward Scar, his face partially concealed by the darkness. And when he stooped down on the opposite side of the fallen man, Edward was able to see his face more clearly.

It was the one that 'Mustang' had claimed was captured by the Homunculi; the one that knew about the Philosopher's Stone more than anyone else.

"Dr. Marcoh…"

* * *

After fifteen painstaking minutes and many moments of uncertainty, the young Xingese girl, May was her name, they discovered; had only managed to staunch the bleeding. It seemed that her specific type of alchemy was unable to effectively heal such deep and life-threatening wounds. In order to ensure this survival, seeing a doctor with the proper tools was vital.

Edward watched as the once powerful man now laid sedentary and weak, his voice barely reaching a volume over whispering. Over and over again he quietly reminded Winry that all she needed to do was remove her hands from applying pressure to his wounds. Her revenge would be justified, he had uttered weakly.

But what astounded Edward was that his childhood friend never batted an eye, always answering him by saying that it was what her parents would have done. And that's when Edward realized that, in the heat of everything that has happened over these past couple of days, he had barely stopped to ask her how she was feeling, knowing that she had discovered her parents' murderer the same day he realized that the Colonel and Lieutenant had been acting strangely. Suddenly he felt like the worst possible friend.

And even for a moment he considered what would happen if they left the young girl and Scar behind, because Dr. Marcoh was Edward's biggest and most important concern at that moment. But that's when Marcoh dropped a bomb on Edward that caused him to discard that disgraceful thought process.

"You're saying that his brother knew something," he asked as the battered and bruised man nodded solemnly.

"Yes. After Scar and May infiltrated the Homunculi's headquarters and met me, Scar disclosed that his brother had been onto something in regards to Amestris and its alchemy. That fight you saw was the result of our escape in order to seek out those secrets so that I could decode them."

"So where are these notes," Edward inquired.

"According to Scar," Marcoh began as he nodded toward the man lying on the opposite side of the room, "They're somewhere in the North."

"In the North," Edward echoed back, though he was quickly interrupted by Teacher.

"It's no longer safe here," she muttered as she peered through a crack in the window covering. "There are an awful lot of military police entering the area."

"Do you think they're looking for us," Alphonse asked as he too peered through the hole.

"I'm not sure," she said. "It looks like they're heading to the area where we were attacked. Possibly in response to the building collapsing."

"I'm almost done," May uttered as she glanced at Izumi for a moment before returning to her work.

"Alright," the older woman replied as she peeled herself away from the peek hole. "But as soon as he's safe to move, we're getting out of here."

"But where will we go," Marcoh asked as he looked up from Scar and toward Izumi. "This man needs medical attention immediately. The hospitals around here certainly aren't going to accept him, and I don't have the means to—"

"I know a place," Edward said as he stepped forward and looked down at the man lying before im. "And right now it's our only option."

* * *

"Xiao Mei," May squealed as she ran forward and caught the tiny 'cat' in her arms, spinning around as she hugged it tightly.

"Oh… He belongs to you," Alphonse asked as he pointed toward the black and white creature that was now cradled in her arms.

" _She_ does," the young girl replied haughtily as she squeezed the creature tighter. But after a few shared moments of happiness, she opened her eyes and glared daggers at the brothers. "And you two stole her from me!"

"Ah, no wait," Alphonse yelped as he waved his hands nervously, "You have it all wrong. I picked her up and—"

"Marcoh," Knox uttered, cutting Alphonse off as he gaped at the second doctor that had stumbled through the doorway behind Izumi and Edward, who had each taken one of the man's arms and hung it over their shoulders and were half-dragging and half-carrying him through the doorway.

"It's been a while, James," Marcoh replied as he extended his hand toward Knox.

Reaching forward and taking it, he acknowledged Marcoh's greeting before turning toward the other members of their party and grumbling, "And what is all of this? I told you that—"

"-This man needs medical attention," Izumi argued as Sig, who had followed after Knox, took the burden from her shoulder and Edward's by keeping Scar upright. "We had nowhere else to go and—"

"Wait a second," Knox cut her off as he scrutinized the man, "Is this the Ishvalan man that's been killing the State Alchemists?"

"It is," Edward confirmed, "And we can discuss that in more detail later. But right now we need to focus on getting him the attention he needs."

After picking his jaw up the floor, Knox closed his eyes and rubbed the bridge of his nose agitatedly. Once he had exhaled slowly, he shook his head and sighed. "Fine. Take him to the basement. I have a cot down there that could be used as a temporary bed for him."

With a signaling nod from Izumi, Sig carefully eased Scar into his massive arms and began to make his way toward the door that led to the basement, with May and Winry in tow. Reaching out, Edward grasped Winry's arm, causing her to turn toward him. Remembering what she had said earlier about her parents likely doing the same, he murmured, "Winry… He's here now. You don't need to—"

"No," Winry replied as she shook her head, "I do need to. Mom and Dad saved his life. That has to mean _something_ …"

He could tell, though, that something was still going on in her mind. When Edward made a move to say something more, she reassured, "I'm alright, really." Turning to face him, she forced a smile and said, "After all, you made me promise that if I ever cried again, it would be out of happiness."

Her words caused him to loosen his grip slightly, enough for her to easily pull herself from his grasp. But before she fully turned away from him, Edward could see a small glint in her eyes. Before he could step toward her again, he was blocked by Dr. Marcoh. Looking up at the doctor, Edward saw a look cross his face that urged him to remain behind. Swallowing thickly, he obliged, turning his focus to Winry as she rounded the corner and disappeared after Sig and May.

"Mind telling me what's going on," Knox asked dryly as he clapped a hand on his friend's shoulder.

"I'd be more than happy to," Marcoh agreed, "But let us both first stabilize the patient, then we can both talk."

"Sounds good to me." Gesturing to Edward, Izumi, and Alphonse, he added, "How about you three wait in the kitchen. We'll give you updates in regards to his condition as time goes on."

"Is there anything that needs to be done with Lan Fan," Alphonse asked as his soul-fire eyes wandered over to the staircase that led to the home's second floor.

"Nah, she's out cold. Her grandfather's there anyways. Said he'd prefer to remain there with her for now." No doubt seeing the face Edward made at the mention, he again suggested, "Just stay up here and keep each other company. I'll be back up soon."

* * *

They had only been standing there for a few minutes, but Heymans could already tell that something was… different. Maybe it was the way they were looking at each other; or rather, the lack thereof.

When reports of an explosion and a few witness accounts describing a youth that appeared to be 'the Fullmetal Alchemist' reached the ears of the General and his men, they were quick to be dispatched to the scene. However, when they had gotten there, 'the Lieutenant' had already been there, her clothes covered in soot and appearing slightly worn.

Not a single individual uttered skepticism or shot a questioning look toward her, though; as if her being near the scene without having any ties to the General was part of the norm. It almost made it seem like everyone else was in on the secret, and the men were simply dragged along with it…

Dismissing the thought and instead telling himself that the MPs were most likely more worried about the massive pile of rubble that had once been a corner of the industrial area of Central, Breda instead focused his attention on the pair that were conversing with each other in a hushed tone.

He immediately noticed the anomaly again. There.

The Lieutenant had her body angled slightly away from the General, his in the same orientation as well. Despite the fact that they were talking and holding a conversation, neither one of their eyes were focused on the other, their expressions displaying hints of distaste.

Perhaps it was the subject matter they were discussing that caused them to stand in such an odd orientation. Or maybe, he thought, it was something else entirely…

* * *

"Unfortunately, I could not contain Scar or Marcoh fast enough. They both managed to slip away in the end… toted away by the Fullmetal Alchemist no less," Lust growled bitterly as her eyes surveyed the ruined scene before them. But when they got too close to drawing him into her line of vision, she stopped, feeling a flutter in her chest.

Emotion… Something she had not experienced… and all because of the Lieutenant. Since taking hold of her, Lust noticed more and more how small things stirred something inside of her. Most of them involving the Colonel. It seemed that even making eye contact with him would elicit these disgusting feelings of longing, sadness, pain.

She had used these emotions to her advantage, however. In addition to these emotions, more a burden than anything, Lust had also unlocked the Lieutenant's memories and was slowly going through them, gaining access to the deepest corners of the sniper's mind. She hadn't expected there to be so many memories involving agony and suffering… not that she was complaining.

No… It was good that these memories existed, because they are what reined the Lieutenant in. Because as long as Lust was able to call them forth, that longing to see and hear the Colonel was replaced by regret, she was able to retain control… just as she was doing now…

* * *

"I'm starting to run out of room," Dr. Knox grumbled loudly as he pulled out a chair at the end of his tiny dining room table and slumped into it, folding his arms over his chest as he chewed the toothpick he had hanging from his lips.

"How's he doing," Izumi asked, ignoring the man's growling jab at them.

The doctor moved his shoulders up and down. "'He's doing' is all I can say." Jabbing his thumb over his shoulder, he added, "Checked him out and determined what needed to be done, then that little girl and her panda kicked me out. Said she and Marcoh knew what they were doing and that they could handle it."

"I've that art she's currently using before," Izumi murmured. "If I recall, it's translated as 'alkahestry' here."

"Eh, whatever it is she seems like she's doing a decent enough job. Marcoh too. And honestly, I'm alright with it. I haven't worked on an Ishvalan citizen since the war."

At the war's mention, Edward's ears perked up. Leaning forward and resting his elbows against the table, he quietly inquired, "You were there… In Ishval?"

"Yep," Knox answered as he pulled out the toothpick and flung it toward the waste bin in the corner, missing the container by a few inches.

As he growled to himself about his fading eyesight, Edward eyed the man with newfound curiosity. Dr. Knox was certainly no spring chicken, but he wasn't exactly ancient either. He might not have fought in the war, but there were other opportunities for him to participate…

Knox's face fell as he continued to watch the bin in the corner, his eyes never wandering from it. Likely sensing Edward's inquisitive look, he uttered, "I was a medical doctor for a while; back when Amestris was occupying Ishval. But after the war started… I was employed for more 'meaningful purposes.'"

"What do you mean," Edward asked slowly.

"Edward," Izumi hissed as she gestured to the doctor, whose expression suggested that his mind had begun to wander back to the battlefield. "You should know not to ask someone that!"

"She's right, kid."

Glancing back over to Knox, who had been pulled from his stupor, Edward's eyes met the doctor's as they watched him over the rims of his glasses. "It isn't something for the faint of heart to hear." When Knox nodded in Alphonse's direction, Edward dipped his head in understanding.

"Hey Al, could you give us a few minutes," Edward murmured, his eyes never wandering from the doctor's.

"But Brother," Alphonse began, though he was cut off by Izumi.

Turning toward him, she shot him a faint smile and said, "He's right, Alphonse. It might be best that you don't hear this."

Out of the corner of his eye, Edward saw Alphonse's shoulders slump and for a moment he did not move. But after letting the suggestion sit and fester, he finally accepted it and got to his feet. Slowly clambering around the table, he stopped his short of the doorway and behind Knox, shooting Edward one final look.

At last glancing up into his brother's soul-fire eyes, Edward nodded his head slightly, both as a signal and a message.

If the doctor was willing to talk on those conditions, then they would be met.

Alphonse would know that anything Knox shared with Edward had the potential to be shared amongst the two brothers… albeit slightly abridged if Edward himself thought the material to be too much. This time was no exception either.

"The whole damn war was a mistake," Dr. Knox began quietly once Alphonse had left as he ran his fingers through his thinning hair. "It started out as an occupation, one where both sides were fairly docile toward the other. But then… Then one day a soldier blatantly pointed a gun at a child and shot her point-blank.

"After that it became an all-out war: retaliation from the Ishvalan citizens, and attempts at containing them."

"I know," Izumi grumbled as she narrowed her eyes at the mention. "And then in order to turn the tides, you sent in your State Alchemists."

"Presidential Decree 306," Knox clarified as a momentous flash of pain crossed his face. "And after that, the war became a one-sided bloodbath…

"I was a doctor at the time… Didn't see any action whatsoever. What I can say is that before long, they needed more coroners than medical staff as the body count grew higher and higher. So that's where I came in.

"I was assigned to division six for the remainder of the war, studying burns and the effects they have on the human body… It didn't take long before I ran into a familiar face, though..."

* * *

 _Just as he leaned over the charred and mangled corpse, he heard something rustle behind him. Turning to glance over his shoulder, he saw a petite young private standing in front of the tent's curtain, her eyes fixated on the countless blanket-covered bodies scattered about._

" _Hey," he snapped, drawing her attention to him, "You can't be in here! What're you—"_

 _Whether she had been heeding his cries or had decided on her own to leave, he wasn't sure. All the doctor knew was that she had stumbled backwards, clawing feverishly behind her in a desperate attempt to grasp the tarp that covered the tent's entrance, her widened eyes locked on the corpse that he had been leaning over._

 _Taking a step toward her, his surprise turning to concern, he muttered, "Hey, take it easy! You're gonna-"_

 _It was too late, however, as she lost her footing and slumped to the ground, clapping her hands over her mouth as she screwed her eyes shut._

 _Recognizing the signs as someone that was about to be sick, he rushed forward with the intent to get her to her feet and outside so that the scent wouldn't linger in his tent for the rest of the afternoon. But as he sunk down next to her and put his hands on her shoulders, her hands went from her mouth to either side of her head and she curled into herself._

 _Now that he was beside her, he realized that he recognized the cadet… one that shouldn't have been out of the academy. But they had needed sharpshooters and this particular private was not just any gunman… No, this was the best of the best. Known as the Hawk's Eye…_

" _Private," he snapped in an attempt to get the trembling, haunted woman to look at him. "Let's get you—"_

" _It was him, wasn't it," she managed to gasp, her eyes locked on the table that held the grotesque and unrecognizable corpse. "The Flame Alchemist…"_

* * *

When the Lieutenant had at last given up, exhaustion from fighting the memory overcoming her, Lust once again took control, pushing the woman's pathetic emotions down enough to rid herself… for the time being. Looking at Wrath, she was pleased to discover that they had, for the most part, subsided; though the beating of her heart was still increased. For now, she decided, she could deal with it.

"Along with Edward and Alphonse was a woman," she went on as he too turned to look at her. For a moment, she saw a look of pain cross his features, though not as severely as the one she surely had on her face moments before. It seemed that he was having an easier time keeping the Colonel at bay at that moment.

"What did she look like," Wrath grumbled as his eyes scanned the premises, pretending that he was surveying the scene for signs of what what had caused the explosion. Anything to make it look like he was investigating the incident, despite knowing full well what had happened.

"She was in her late thirties to mid-forties," Lust began as she too pretended to survey the scene. "Dark eyes and dark hair pulled back with pieces of it matted together."

Wrath squeezed his eyes shut and focused on the Colonel's memories, much to the latter man's displeasure. Ignoring the violent push the Colonel gave him, he continued to search until… Opening his eyes, he muttered, "Izumi Curtis, I'd presume. The Colonel never met her personally, but Edward and Alphonse had been carrying a picture of her around at some point or another.

"She was the one that taught them their alchemy…"

"And one of our potential sacrifices," Lust said as she frowned. "If she's here, that can only mean one thing."

"Right," Wrath growled as he narrowed his eyes. "They called on her in regards to the Colonel and Lieutenant's predicament."

* * *

"It appeared to me that Hawkeye and Mustang's relationship went further back than just the war," Knox grumbled as he sat back in his chair and crossed his arms. "And it seemed that she knew more about his alchemy than she oftentimes let on."

"So you saw both Hawkeye and Mustang during the war?"

Knox nodded in reply. "Yeah. The Lieutenant I saw periodically throughout her deployment after that incident. Honestly, I didn't think she'd make it to the end."

"What does that mean," Edward asked as he furrowed his brows confusedly.

Knox moved his shoulders up and down and leaned back in his chair. "She was a timid girl, shy. According to a few reports, they had considered sending her back to the academy. After all, she was only twenty or so when they sent her to the front lines."

"That's… just a couple of years older than me," Edward mused.

"It is," Knox agreed. "A lot of cadets in their last year at the academy were sent to the battlefield. They needed bodies and those cadets provided them.

"Some of them, however, were gifted. Like the Lieutenant."

"And what exactly was this 'gift,'" Izumi asked guardedly.

"Weapons and ammunition," Knox replied without hesitance. "She was a sand dog, a sharpshooter, tasked with remaining under cover and attacking from the skies. She didn't earn the name 'Hawk's Eye' for nothing."

A look of disgust crossed her features. "I remember hearing about the 'Hawk's Eye' during the war. A coward disguised as a murderer was what I thought. Because who else would hide behind the barrel of a gun when they knew that the lives they were taking were innocent?"

Even Dr. Knox flinched at the harsh comment. Regaining himself quickly, however, he shook his head. "Maybe she was a 'coward,' but it wasn't because she was hiding from the citizens of Ishval. Instead, you'd need to understand more of her history as well… as her reasons for remaining there.

"The government did not take too kindly to deserters. The State Alchemists got a slap on the wrist and were sent home. Major Armstrong was one of them. If you think about it, he hasn't risen in the ranks since then, and he probably never will. It ruined his career, despite the fact that the Armstrong family has been in the military for generations. But," he continued gravely, "If you think about an average Joe like me or someone as insignificant as the Lieutenant at that time, desertion was an entirely different evil; one oftentimes punished by death at the hands of their own comrades.

"Of course, none of this reached the public's ears, and it was rarely seen because of the brutality. I think I saw maybe one or two of these acts before I stopped seeing them entirely."

"Still," Izumi argued as she leaned forward in her chair, eyeing the doctor incredulously, "Wouldn't you think that dying would be better than killing more people?"

"I suppose," he said as he reached into his pocket and pulled out a cigarette carton. After knocking it against the table to loosen one of the tobacco sticks, he pulled it out and twirled it between his fingers. "But I didn't think about that at the time. My thoughts were on surviving and getting back to my wife and son.

"The Lieutenant's reasons are still somewhat of a mystery to me. But one thing I do know was that her loyalties lied with the Colonel even from the beginning, so that's where she put all of her effort."

"And the Colonel," Edward murmured as he balled his hands into fists atop the table, "What about him?"

"What can I honestly say? You've probably heard that he was referred to as 'the Hero of Ishval.' What do you think happened during that time?"

Swallowing the lump that had formed in his throat, Edward uttered, "Yeah, I heard about that. He would never say anything to me about it, though. Even when I asked him about it."

"For good reasons too," Knox replied. "It's a title that both he and I would like to forget."

"So you saw him more often during the war," Edward cautiously pressed.

"I did," Knox confirmed. "After all, I was assigned to clean up after his waves of destruction."

* * *

" _You've certainly kept me busy this past week," Knox growled without turning around, knowing who had stepped into his tent without needing to look. When his visitor said nothing, he glanced over his shoulder to see that the dark-haired young man had stopped beside one of the steel tables set up in the middle of the makeshift room, obsidian eyes boring into the small and lifeless body that lie upon it._

" _Did… did he suffer?"_

" _She," Knox corrected as he wiped his hands on a towel and made his way over to Mustang. "And judging by her burns, I'd reckon so."_

 _He saw the Major tense, balling his hands into fists at his side, an anguished expression painting his features. Knox said nothing as he walked around to the other side of the table and grasped the cloth that was pooled at the corpse's feet. But just as he began to pull the cover over the child, Mustang uttered, "Don't."_

" _Don't do this to yourself," Knox snarled as he ignored the Major's order and continued to cover her._

 _In a sign of retaliation, Mustang's hand flew up from his side and grabbed one of Knox's wrists, stopping him from covering her completely. "I told you to stop," the Major growled dangerously._

" _And I told you to not do this to yourself," Knox muttered as he yanked his wrist from Mustang's grasp. "You do this every single time. You come in here to see what damage you caused, and you damn yourself because of it._

" _Looking isn't going to bring these people back, Major, so stop coming in here to—"_

" _Do you honestly think I'm here to admire my handiwork," Mustang barked, his rage-filled eyes raising to catch the doctor's._

" _Of course not," Knox replied as he finished covering the child. "You come in here every damn time to remind yourself of the destruction and ruin you've brought about._

" _You repeatedly beat yourself up and yet you do nothing about it."_

 _He did not flinch when the Major grabbed the lapels of his lab coat and pulled him around the table so that their faces were inches from each other. "What can I do," Mustang seethed through bared teeth. "You know damn well what the fuck they do to deserters. Armstrong was lucky; he has family ties. But the moment I even show a hint of hesitation—"_

" _I know what they'll do," Knox snapped as he slapped the Major's hands away and stumbled back from him. "And you think that what you're doing is better than the alternative? Pounding the images of these godforsaken people into your mind until they become permanent fixtures?_

" _If you want to stop feeling so goddamn remorseful, use that guilt to actually do something with your life!"_

" _What…?"_

" _You heard me," Knox answered. "If you want to see change, then stop pushing yourself into a corner and actually do something about this."_

 _The Major blinked once, twice, trying to process what he had said. When he had, he uttered, "What could I possibly do…?"_

 _Knox turned away from him and made his way back over to the wash basin he was supplied, stooping down to pick up one of the instruments that had been soaking in it. As he ran a brush over it, he said, "You figure it out. You claim to want to protect others? You wanna protect that woman and your family? Then put yourself in a position where you_ can _."_

* * *

"Wait," Edward said slowly. "The Colonel… His idea to become Fuhrer came _during_ the war?"

"Yep," Knox grumbled as he leaned back against the couch and replaced the toothpick between his teeth, having opted to put out the cigarette he had lit earlier. "He decided on that day that rather than remain a tool, he would rise in the ranks until there was nothing left for him to reach for."

Crossing her arms over her chest, Izumi growled, "That still doesn't excuse the fact that he took hundreds of innocent lives."

Shrugging his shoulders up and down and without casting his glance in her direction, Knox countered, "You're right. It doesn't excuse that fact. But it does is prove that his heart was in the right place.

"Think about it. If he were pulled from the war, what do you think they'd do?"

A feeling of sickness flooding his gut, Edward murmured, "They'd just replace him…"

"Right. And trust me," Knox said at last as he looked up at Izumi. "You'd rather he take their lives than some of the alchemists they sent out into the field. After that he was more precise with his flames, ensuring that any deaths he caused were quick and as painless as possible. Hell, I barely had any autopsies to do toward the end because he turned their bodies to ash."

Feeling his aching stomach twist into knots, Edward looked down at the table and tried to process what the doctor had said up until that point. He knew that the Colonel and Lieutenant had been significant during the war, but he never understood to what extent.

But now… Now he did.

"The war took a lot from the both of them," Knox explained as he chewed on the toothpick. "So after that, they both agreed to change the country so that nothing of that magnitude could happen to future generations."

"Yeah," Edward said, his eyes still focused on the table. "Mustang will become Fuhrer…" Suddenly, a thought crossed his mind. Looking up at Knox, he said, "But wait… If he succeeds, and as long as the country remains a military dictatorship, it's only a matter of time before there's another civil war or more conflict with rival nations."

"You didn't think he thought about that," Knox asked as he shook his head. When Edward did not immediately respond, he explained, "He and the Lieutenant agreed that they'll keep fighting until this country has its parliament restored to what it once was – and make the country into a democratic state.

"From there, it's likely that there will be years of negotiation with surrounding nations to ensure that we don't blow each other up, most likely if Amestris agrees to a reduction in arms. Then," he continued to explain, "If that's the case, then the State Alchemist system will be abolished as well so that there will be no more human weapons."

"That makes sense," Izumi said. "A reduction in arms might signal to the other countries that Amestris would at least be attempting to move away from its militant history."

"Wait," Edward gasped. "But if the state becomes a democracy, then—"

"You got it," Knox said as he folded his arms and looked down at the table. "Anyone that participated in the war will be branded as a war criminal the moment this country converts.

"The Colonel, the Lieutenant, and even myself will likely be tried…and found guilty of mass murder."

"So they know this," Edward uttered in exacerbation, "And yet the Colonel was still aiming for the top!?"

"That's suicide," Izumi elaborated as she eyed Knox as if he were mad.

"It could be considered that," Knox said as he shrugged, "Or you could call it a 'just dessert.' Every one of us ended the lives of countless innocent people. So if they decide it's our time, it's our time." Then, looking up at Edward over the rims of his glasses, he gravely muttered, "So now you must decide who their executioner will be… The government… or you."

Edward's heart skipped a beat the moment the doctor finished his thought. He was implying that either way they would not win… So that meant that they could either die now and take the Homunculi with them… Or die later at the hands of their country. Either way, it meant that their lives would be cut short…

"You said that they've lost a lot already… So I guess in their minds there isn't anything else left to lose." Keeping his eyes locked on Knox's, Edward murmured, "So does that mean that you too are giving us permission to…" He found he could not finish the sentence, overwhelmed by the number of people that had told him what they _should_ do. The more he thought, however, the more he realized that he knew more about Mustang and Hawkeye and their involvement than his.

He had said that he had become a coroner and had studied the effects of burns on the human body, but had immediately turned the conversation toward the Lieutenant and Colonel. What else could he have not said…?

"And you," Edward advanced cautiously, "You said that they had lost a lot, and we know that they did. But what could have happened outside the battlefield…?

"…What did you lose?"

He saw Knox's face twist in agony before he shook his head, dismissing the memories that had no doubt crept in entirely.

"I prefer to keep that matter to myself," he said before gnawing down on the toothpick until it cracked. Pulling it out and discarding it into the waste bin the first one never made it too, he muttered, "Let's just say that it was enough for me to lose my family…"

* * *

"Eugene…"

The General jumped and looked up with a start, surprised to see that Christ had seated herself next to him. After shooting him a disapproving glare, she nodded down toward the half-finished glass of scotch in his hand and muttered, "I thought I told you to rest."

"I did… for a while," he replied half-heartedly as he looked back down at his glass and swirled its contents around. "But my thoughts just got the better of me."

Out of the corner of his eye he saw another disapproving glance and a raised brow. "So are you telling me that you snuck into the back room to gather your thoughts?"

"Is there a problem with that," he challenged, his bite a little more sharply than he intended it to be.

He saw her stiffen momentarily before she shook her head, "No, there isn't. What is the problem, though," she continued, "Is that you thought it better to gather your thoughts alone."

Exhaling slowly through his nose, the General bit his lip before chuckling darkly. "A force of habit, I'm afraid. I'm just not used to seeking the company of others… especially after being alone for so long.

"It seems I have forgotten what it feels like."

Putting a hand on his shoulder, she urged, "Then if that's an issue, you need to fix it stat. All of us are suffering, Eugene, and we need to pull together. Not fall apart."

"Oh my dear," he replied as he shook his head, "I fear that it's too late for that."

When she opened her mouth to counter him, he pushed himself away from the empty table he was seated at and stood, adjusting his uniform and dusting it off. Grabbing the glass, he raised it to his lips and tipped it back, pouring the rest of its contents down his throat. After he set it back down on the table, he uttered, "It's nearly time…. We should get going."

Hearing a heavy sigh, he perceived Chris Mustang rising from the table as well in order to follow after him. Taking one final deep breath, he straightened himself and composed his emotions, allowing the slow burn of the scotch to assist in calming his nerves and praying that it would counter the icy chill that had set in on his heart.

* * *

The conversation with Dr. Knox had not gone on much longer after that. After once again steering the conversation away from his involvement, either in the interest of time or because of his own regrets of his transgressions, night had already begun to fall. By the time they had completely finished, Edward had noticed that the time was getting dangerously close to the time they would agree to meet with the General and Mustang's men again… So just in time to be told more things he didn't want to hear.

He had wished he was able to fill Alphonse in regarding what Knox had said, but with Teacher there, he knew that she wouldn't approve. Still, he could constantly see his younger brother watching him out of the corner of his eye every hundred feet or so, worry reflecting in his soulful bright eyes. If he looked as dejected and heavy-hearted as he felt, then he supposed it gave Al every right to worry.

"This is the place," Edward muttered as he pushed open the door of the gentlemen's bar they had trudged over to, ignoring the confused look Teacher had shot him. As they followed him in, one of the 'servers,' he vaguely recalled her name being Clarissa, stopped and eyed him intently. Looking around to make sure that the establishment was empty, he uttered, "He who would be king."

Her brows raised at the statement and she gave him a sharp nod, signaling for the trio to follow her.

Shoving his hands into his pockets, he stalked after her without a word, Teacher and Al right on his heels.

She walked them through the bar area and into the kitchen, then veered off course and headed into a small, private room that was just off it. Clarissa immediately beelined over to a bookcase and placed her hands on it, giving it a small shove. The push was enough to shift the bookcase over from its position against the wall. When she had first done it the day before, they had discovered that it was sitting on two pairs of hidden wheels, the piece of furniture itself acting as a doorway.

Helping her to push it the rest of the way, Edward muttered a small "thank you" as he motioned for Al and Teacher to follow him down the staircase that had been revealed. As they climbed down, the buzz of voices that filled his ears abruptly stopped as the room's occupants quieted.

Being the first to reach the bottom, Edward threw a small wave to everyone that was there, seeing that they were the last to arrive. When Teacher and Al made it down after him, General Grumman immediately rose to his feet and turned his attention toward Izumi. "You must be the boys' teacher. Thank you so much for coming," he said as he extended a hand toward her.

Walking forward and reaching out to grasp his and give it a firm shake, she replied, "I'm happy to help. Edward and Al discussed the situation with me and, while I don't know much about this realm of alchemy, I have given them my word that I would help in any way that I can."

Edward watched as a disheartened look crossed the General's features, though it vanished quickly. Nodding, he forced the corners of his lips upward in an attempt to smile and added, "Again, thank you. Now please, take a seat. We were just about to start."

After bobbing her head in response, Izumi took the seat closest to Breda, just across from Lieutenant Havoc, who was wheeled up to the table. Pulling out the chairs on the opposite side of her, Edward and Al took their seats as well. When he saw Havoc's eyes wander in his direction, Edward glanced upward and shot him a look of acknowledgement, but was unable to say anything as the General cleared his throat.

"I want to thank all of you for arriving in such a timely and quiet manner, because right now time is not on our side," he began to explain. "Unfortunately, tonight will be the last night I am here, as I fear that a prolonged absence could possibly alert the higher ups, who we are assuming are not on our side.

"That being said, I—"

Then a loud and shrill shriek reached their ears; a cry that caused Edward's blood to run cold. All at once everyone turned toward the staircase as the makeshift door in front of it was pushed open with a violent yank.

Leaping up from his chair and knocking it over, Edward clapped his hands together and transmuted the steel of his automail arm into a blade as everyone else followed suit; jumping up from their positions as two pairs of footsteps were heard slowly descending the steps.

"Who's there-"

Edward was cut off by one of the intruders as they spoke, the familiar voice throwing his mind into overdrive and forcing him to lose his words.

"I'm disappointed," the voice said as its owner and a blonde-haired woman stepped off the last step and into the light of the singular light that dangled from the ceiling. With a wolfish grin, 'Mustang' hummed, "A gathering of all of our dearest friends and family and we weren't invited…"

* * *

 **A/N:** _OKAY. Whew, that was long. I hope that nothing is rushed and that it all makes sense. I would like to touch on Ishval and Madame Christmas's and Grumman's thoughts more, but I really want to get the story going! I promise I will in more fragments later._

 _Also, are you all cool with these long chapters, or would you prefer shorter ones (meaning that I'll probably update a little faster). Please let me know because it seems that with this story I could write forever and ever!_

 _Expect the story to really kick off next chapter with Team Mustang and Wrath and Lust interacting with them, especially with Edward and Alphonse. Plus, another two Homunculi will be making appearances… (One of them being the other human-turned-Homunculus hint hint)._

 _Finally, thank you all so much for the reviews, favorites, and follows! You are all spectacular and incredible! It means a lot…_


	8. Chapter 8

"I'm disappointed. A gathering of all of our dearest friends and family… And we weren't invited."

For once Edward found himself at a loss for words, finding himself able to only stare at the pair that had intruded, his mouth hanging open in utter shock. Aside from their brief encounter with Lust that morning, they had covered their tracks well. Nothing they had done in those past two days would have led those two to them. So how… how did they find them?

Seeing Edward's uncharacteristic silence, 'Mustang' turned his attention toward and focused on him. The corner of his lip twitching upward, the General said, "I'm surprised, Fullmetal. For once you seem to be at a loss—"

Hearing a bang originating from the opposite end of the table, Edward jerked his head around and away from 'Mustang' to see that the noise had originated from General Grumman, who had slammed his hands down on the table and rose from his chair.

With narrowed eyes, he snarled, "What are _you_ doing here?"

Unfazed by the older General's actions, 'Mustang' raised a brow and coolly replied, "Just as I implied. We're hurt that we didn't receive an invitation."

"How did you find us," Edward inquired slowly as he repositioned himself, keeping his guard and metal blade raised. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Izumi and Alphonse adjust their stances as well, while Breda and Mustang's other men inched their hands down to their beltlines, finding the guns on their hips.

With a roll of his eyes and a scoff, the General said, "Honestly, it wasn't that difficult. Between Catalina showing up and Izumi Curtis conveniently stumbling into town, it wasn't hard figuring out what you had planned. All it took was a little deducing," he continued as his eyes scanned over them before stopping on Madame Christmas and General Grumman, "And determining a likely enabler."

Keeping her venomous glare fixed on her 'nephew,' the Madame uttered, "So you assume the two of us pulled this all together?"

Letting loose a brief laugh, the General shook his head and clarified, "No, no at all. These two," he continued as his glare flickered over to Edward and Alphonse before returning to her, "Are the enablers; they were no doubt the ones that brought your attention to us. You, on the other hand, are their providers, given your… history."

Stealing a glance at the Madame, Edward saw her eyes narrow and the corner of her lip twitch downward.

Shaking his head and shoving his hands into his pockets, the General said, "Next time I suggest you conduct business in a location that isn't familiar to Mustang. At the very least, you would assure your little meeting won't be foiled by the enemy." His eyes flickering over to Grumman, he sneered and added, "Wouldn't you agree, General? Seeing that you _are_ a master strategist."

The General froze and forced a small smile. "Indeed. Well played," he mused.

Taking more notice in the older man, 'Mustang' took a step toward him and surveyed him for a few moments, just as intently as Grumman was staring at him. Then, he cracked a smile and immediately relaxed as the older General pulled a gun from behind his back and rested it on the table.

"How very wise," 'Mustang' retorted as he eyed the object. "You've chosen to conserve your bullets."

"Or save them for just the right moment," Grumman growled dangerously as he reached for it again. But before he could grab hold of it, the crisp sound of metal fissuring reached Edward's ears. Turning his attention to the only metallic object within sight, he saw that the gun had been punctured by a single long, black spear. Following it up with his eyes, he watched as Lust retracted it and resumed her position next to 'Mustang,' keeping her keen focus on Grumman, her lips twisting upward at the old man's evident shock.

"Honestly, I don't see what the hostility is all about," the younger General said with a feigned sigh. "All we wanted to do was visit and deliver a quick message to Mustang's men." His eyes flitting over Havoc, he added, "Or at least the ones still under my command."

"I'm just as much a part of this team as anyone else," Havoc chimed in and he rested his elbows on his knees and leaned forward, glaring at the General. "So I have just as much a right to hear it that they do."

Cocking his head slightly, 'Mustang' replied, "Is that so? Because I recall an honorable discharge for you, Havoc."

Havoc snorted. "Just because a piece of paper tells you that I'm not a part of this team doesn't mean that I'm not. The Colonel said he'd meet me at the top, and that's exactly what's going to happen."

With a light chuckle, the General shook his head side to side and said, "Is that what Mustang told you? That he'd see you at the top?

"How, I wonder, will he meet you there knowing that you can't even stumble—"

Slapping her hands down on the table, Lieutenant Catalina leapt up from her chair and yelled, "That's enough!" As the occupants of the room turned toward her, shocked, she focused her glare on the two Homunculi and seethed, "All you two have done since you got here was antagonize us. How dare you use their faces, _their voices_ , to test these bonds they've worked so hard to forge.

"If you think that we're going to back down, don't. Because if there's one thing Mustang and his men are good at, it's—"

The sound of splintering wood reached Edward's ears before his eyes could fully grasp the swiftness of Lust's attack. Lieutenant Catalina's voice was abruptly cut short as two spears pierced the wooden beam behind her, each of them centimeters from the bandages on her neck.

With a smile, Lust purred, "I had nearly forgotten you were here, Rebecca, so thank you for the reminder. Because as I recall, we have some unfinished business to attend to."

Slamming his fists down on his chair's armrests, he pushed himself upward, lifting himself up from the chair as he snarled, "If you lay a finger on her, I swear to god I'll—"

"That's enough Havoc," 'Mustang' snapped as his expression soured, "Another move like that and you'll upset my friend."

His venomous glare still locked on Lust, he sneered, "What're you going on ab—" The former Lieutenant stopped, however, when the air around them began to compress and push down on them; like the air pressure in the room had intensified tenfold.

Edward froze, feeling the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end. Something… Something _huge_ was coming… Then, out of the corner of his eye, he saw something black leak out from around their feet and blossom outward, enveloping the room in a coat of black almost instantaneously.

"What… what is…-"

Suddenly, dozens of sharpened red eyes opened around them, their glares boring into the room's occupants as mouths full of elongated and sharpened teeth smiled down at them.

When Mustang took a step forward, the dark tendrils that had begun to sprout from the shadows slowly wove themselves around everyone at the table, binding them where they stood. Making a move to struggle against them, Edward turned his head and felt a sharp pain on his cheek. Jerking his head back, he felt something warm and sticky run down his face. Blood…

"I wouldn't do that if I were you," the General growled as he took another step forward, the shadows near his feet retreating away from him. "Sudden movements make my friend very angry."

The eyes narrowed resentfully in response to that statement, but the many mouths the monster had remained clamped shut, the shadowy creature refusing to vocalize.

Clearing his throat, Mustang uttered, "Unfortunately, our time here is nearly up, filled up with pointless chitchat and rhetoric. So rather than test my patience further, I've decided to get straight to the point.

"To the three men that are still legally under Mustang's command, you are to report to my office at exactly eight hundred hours tomorrow morning, no earlier and no later, for an important debrief." When he scanned over them and allowed his dark eyes to fall on Edward, the corners of his lips curled upward and he added, "With Fullmetal making an appearance no later than nine hundred hours."

"And… and if we refuse?"

Hearing the fearful pitch in his voice, Edward allowed his eyes to wander over to Lieutenant Breda to see that he was trembling slightly, beads of sweat pouring down his faces as he tried to otherwise keep himself level-headed amidst the sea of shadows.

Shrugging nonchalantly as he scanned over the men, taking care to look each of them square in the eye, the General said, "As long as you cooperate, there will be no issues. And my friend here will make sure that there won't be any…"

Moving his head to the side just an iota, Edward watched as the edges of the red eyes curled upward, its multiple mouths grinning and gnashing its teeth with excitement. Sucking in a deep breath, he turned his focus to 'Mustang' in time to see a self-satisfied smirk cross his face.

"Because wherever there is light, there will always be shadows," he added as the being's grip tightened on them.

"Now then, do we have confirmation that you'll attend?"

The men all dipped their heads in unison, silently agreeing to the General's question, causing the shadows to loosen slightly. When his eyes fell on Edward once more, he swallowed thickly before mumbling, "We'll be there."

"Excellent." Shoving his hands into his pockets, he loosened his shoulders and rocked back on his heels. "Then I'll let you get back to your little get together, because I'd hate to impinge on you all further." Turning so that his back was toward them, he took a step up the staircase before pausing. Glancing over his shoulder toward Grumman and Catalina, he continued, "Be sure to have a safe trip to Eastern tomorrow, you two. And you," he said as his eyes fell back onto Madame Christmas, "Be sure to tell the girls I said 'hello.' I'm sure they'll be disappointed they missed me."

"Oh, I'll tell them something alright," the older woman snarled as a bead of sweat rolled down her cheek, her eyes quivering as the shadows continued to snake around her.

"Great," 'Mustang' replied with a cheeky smile. "I appreciate it." Ignoring the growl he received in reply, he looked toward Lust as she retracted her spears, her eyes never wavering from Catalina and Havoc for a moment. "Ready to go?"

"I suppose," she answered. "Such a shame we weren't able to catch up better." Looking toward Grumman, she said, "Although I'm sure some of us will be able to catch up _very_ soon."

"What do you mean by that," Grumman growled as he tried to shake the shadows off of his body, "What does that mean?!"

Ignoring the General's demands, she turned away from him and began to follow 'Mustang' to ascend the steps. But after she had made it up a few, she shot him one last glance over her shoulder toward him.

"Answer me," he cried out, this time his tone more desperate and begging. These pleas, however, fell on deaf ears as she turned away and ascended the stairs after 'Mustang,' vanishing moments before the sound of the hidden room's door slammed shut.

* * *

Shoving his hands into his pockets, Wrath grimaced as he stepped over the unconscious form of the Colonel's 'sister,' which caused the latter to squirm within him. Pushing the man down, he opened the front door of Christmas's establishment and began to trudge back toward Central Headquarters with Lust two steps behind them. Neither one of them spoke, the energy bouncing back and forth between them telling enough.

Seeing something out of the corner of his eye and down the alleyway they were passing, Wrath turned to see a small form partially concealed by shadows glaring toward him. With a light smile, he changed direction and headed toward the small form. As he approached the child, he said, "I appreciate your presence back there. It proved to be very—" Before he finished his sentence, a flurry of dark shadows erupted from the darkness and wrapped around him, slamming him against the side of one of the buildings. Reaching up to claw at the tendrils that twisted themselves around his neck, he opened his eyes to see that Lust had been pinned on the opposite side of the back street.

Trying his best to keep a smirk from crossing his face, he stared at the child as he slowly rose to meet him at eye level, assisted by the shadows that were lashing and wrapping around his feet. When they were face to face, Pride scrunched his face and hissed, "Wipe that grin off your face, _Wrath_."

His face falling, Wrath narrowed his eyes and said, "I'm failing to understand the animosity, Pride. I thought the exchange went well."

Clicking his tongue, the eldest Homunculus said, "I, of course, completed my end of the bargain, despite your blatant show of disrespect." Tightening his grip on Wrath's throat, he leaned closer and growled, "To showcase me the way you would an attack dog stepped over your boundaries, Wrath. It is in your best interest that you remember my superiority, both in age and design." Glancing over his shoulder at Lust, who had stopped struggling and was watching, he added, " _Both_ of you are beneath me. The fact still remains that you are of human origin and it _sickens_ me.

"The former Wrath was respectful enough. I tolerated his presence just as I have been tolerating yours. To push me further will result with serious consequences."

Wrath knew that his former incarnation had been more of a mere 'tolerance' to Pride, but to comment on the matter would only anger the Homunculus more. They were on tight leashes as it was, and having them pulled tighter because of an altercation would only complicate matters.

"Then I apologize," Wrath wheezed through his gasps as he reached up and delicately wrapped his fingers around the tangible shadows.

The eyes behind the child narrowed and the corners of the numerous mouths curled upward in response to the other Homunculus's struggle. Seemingly accepting the apology, Pride slowly lowered Wrath to the ground and unwound his tendrils, collecting them at his feet once again.

Looking past him, Wrath saw that Lust had been lowered to the ground as well, her hand stained a bright red from gripping the shadows too tightly. Seeing alchemical sparks spilling out of it, a sudden burst of unexpected anger boiled within him. Turning to shoot an accusatory look toward the eldest Homunculus, he saw that Pride was smiling gleefully back.

"Remember to stay in line," he purred as he turned on his heels and began to walk away, "Because I will _always_ be watching."

* * *

The moment the shadows finally receded, the breaths that everyone had held were all released at once… Though the tense air still remained, the shadows lingering in the backs of their minds.

Edward knew that Grumman had planned to say more, but after what had happened his words were no longer there, lost in the stupor Lust's final cryptic words had induced. Instead, they sat in absolute silence, too afraid to move or speak for fear that the red eyes and pointed mouths were still amongst them. The only ones that dared move, and only in conjunction, were Teacher and the Madame when they retrieved the battered, but otherwise okay, 'sister' to Mustang.

The night ended with shallow goodbyes and silent exchanges and glances that promised a convention in the future. How soon they did not know, though Edward could tell by the stolen, weary glances between Grumman and the Madame that they were already formulating something. Now it was simply a matter of ensuring that the shadows would not return.

They left in silence that night, heading in separate directions down well-lit roads, taking care to stay beneath the glow of a street lamp whenever possible.

Every attempt that Teacher made to talk with the brothers was met with muted, sharp replies. Otherwise, the rest of their time was spent watching and waiting.

There were a number of moments where Edward had to whip around, a flash of red or a bright white sheen out of the corner of his eye. But whatever would be there would be gone.

Once they had returned to Knox's house, few words were exchanged with the doctor, with Edward and Alphonse excusing themselves to the bedroom they and Winry shared. But once they had finally convinced Teacher to let them go and had finally made it up to discover that Winry had been sleeping already, the two brothers once again found themselves besieged by darkness.

Their minds spinning, the two brothers sat on opposite ends of the room and allowed the silence to continue, their senses alert and focused, primed and ready should the darkness return.

But at some point, just as the sun's light had begun to peek through the room's windows, Edward's body betrayed him, and at last found the sleep it had been fighting off for days.

* * *

 _Taking a deep breath, Edward pushed open the door to Mustang's office and stepped inside, strumming his fingers along the papers he had tucked under his arm. The room was empty, save for Hawkeye, who was seated at her desk, leaning over a document as she skimmed over it with her finger. When he closed the door behind him, she looked up and smiled. "Hello Edward. What brings you here?"_

 _Something inside of him stirred uneasily, nagging at him and begging him to retreat. But for whatever reason, he couldn't exactly place a reason on this feeling. Pushing it to the back of his mind, he reminded himself that it was only Hawkeye in the room. There was no reason to feel to that way…_

 _"Is the Colonel here," he asked as he approached her desk and pulled out the papers he had tucked under his arm. "I have a report for him that I've been meaning to turn in."_

 _Nodding toward the corner of her desk nearest him, the Lieutenant said, "Just set it right there and I'll be sure to get it to him."_

 _"Alright, thanks." Taking a step forward, he slid it onto her desk. The moment it left his hand, however, a shockwave sprang through him, his heart jumping in his chest. Something was wrong… Something was horribly wrong. Looking up, he saw that she was grinning back, an almost malicious air about her._

 _Suddenly he remembered the reason for his wariness before. How could he forget?! Stumbling back, he watched as she rose from her desk and clasped her hands behind her back. "Is something the matter, Edward," she asked in a sickeningly sweet tone._

 _"You…" he muttered as the hairs on his neck stood on end. "You're not the Lieutenant."_

 _"Of course I'm not," she said as her smile fell, her voice thick with annoyance. "We've been over proper introductions before, Edward."_

 _Balling his hands into fists, he growled, "What do you want? Why have you taken the Lieutenant's body?"_

 _Chuckling darkly, she began to pace around her desk, her violet eyes never leaving his. "That," she continued, "Is something that is not of your concern."_

 _"I'm pretty sure it is," he snarled as he took another step back, raising his hands to clap them together. Before he could, however, the room instantly fell dark, hundreds of red eyes opening around him. Feeling something crawling up his leg, he looked down to see that shadowy tendrils began to weave themselves around him and his arms, pulling them apart. As he fought against it, she stopped in front of him and bent at the waist so that she was at eye level with him._

 _"On second thought, I suppose it_ is _of your concern," she mused. "After all, you are the reason the Colonel and Lieutenant were taken by us."_

 _Stiffening as the shadows began to crawl up his face and around his neck, he gasped, "What…"_

 _"Don't be ridiculous, Edward," Hawkeye said amusedly. "If you hadn't been so adamant in dragging them into your affairs, this wouldn't have happened to them. You and your brother's meddling have caused the demise of three people now, hasn't it?"_

 _Seeing a flash of movement over her shoulder, he looked past her to see Brigadier General Hughes and Mustang standing behind her, their cold and dark eyes focused on Edward._

 _"And don't forget," she continued as his eyes slowly wandered back to her, "There was a child you couldn't save, wasn't there?"_

 _Feeling a tug on his pants, he willed his eyes to look down, his heart altogether stopping. Looking up at him with dulled eyes was a four-legged creature with white fur and a mane of long brown hair. Seeing that it had his attention, the chimera rumbled, "Big… Brother not… save me…" before gripping a piece of fabric from his pants with its mouth and tugging at it._

 _"You see,_ Edward _, your existence has caused ruin in countless lives. Your brother, Alphonse; his body taken as payment because of your audacious desire to play god. The girl, Nina; her life stolen too early because of your incompetence._

 _"Maes Hughes; a man you pulled into a situation you yourself were completely unprepared for. His life taken and his family left behind to pick up the pieces. And then," she added as she smirked, "The Colonel and Lieutenant; the two people who gave you the opportunity… Only for you to remain unscathed while they pay for your mistakes."_

 _By then the shadows had completely wrapped themselves around him, tightening their grip on his wrists as they pulled is arms away and straight out from his body. No longer able to struggle, all he could do was watch as she surveyed him, a wicked smile on her lips. "Do you see now that all of this this befell because of you, Edward?"_

Edward… Ed!

 _"No… Wait," he cried desperately, "I… I didn't-" Feeling an intense amount of pressure on his chest, he looked down in time to see a trickle of blood begin to escape the new wound in his chest… with long, black spears penetrating it._

ED!

* * *

Feeling the grip of the shadows loosen, Edward began to swing wildly to try and free himself and get away from—

Hearing a loud shout, Edward's eyes flew open as he sat upright and grabbed at his chest, feeling for spilt blood or a wound. When he didn't feel anything, he began to pant wildly, cold sweat pouring down his face. That's when he saw a mess of blonde hair out of the corner of his eye. Jerking his head around, he saw Winry sprawled out on the floor, a hand to her cheek.

"W… Winry?"

When she looked up at him, he saw that her eye above the spot on her cheek she was rubbing was watering profusely.

"Ed…" She murmured as she pulled her hand away from her face and inched toward him, "Are you alright?"

"I…" he began before he stopped, seeing that her cheek was glowing cherry red. Scrambling out of the bed sheets he was tangled in, he crashed to the floor and crawled over to her. "Winry… Your face…"

"It's alright," she said as she shook her head and rubbed her watering eye. "You only got my cheek at an odd angle, so no harm done."

He realized that he did not feel a tingling sensation in his flesh hand… meaning that he had struck her with… "It isn't alright," he countered as he raised his left hand to brush his fingers over her cheek. "I slugged you with my automail! I could have seriously hurt you!"

"But you didn't," she reassured him with a faint smile. "I saw what you were about to do so I turned away; I know how to deal with these now.

"Ed… You were having a nightmare, weren't you?"

"A night…" That's when the scenes began to play back to him in his mind. The visions of Hawkeye and the Colonel and Nina and those shadows… Suddenly he felt as if the world was caving in on him, his heart rate skyrocketing in his chest. It had felt so real…

"Do you remember what it was about?"

Snapping his head up to look her in the eye, he could see how worried he had made her. But the more they played back to him, the more he wanted to keep them locked up inside, to shield her from the horror of it all. The horror _and_ realization of his mistakes…

As he began to retract his hand, however, she lifted hers and caught it between them. Her face softening, she murmured, "You don't have to be afraid to tell me about it, Ed. I'm here for you."

He swallowed the lump that had formed in his throat from the thought of telling her… "Honestly," he mumbled, "I… I don't remember it. Any of it…"

He watched her face fall, and he felt his heart fracture. He had always been as honest as he could be with Winry, even concerning the nightmares he had as a child. But now the thought of telling her about his increasingly heavy burden, his worry… He just couldn't bring himself to.

"Oh," she muttered as she glanced down at the hand she held between her own before looking back up at him. "Well, if you remember once you get back, don't be afraid to tell me," she added as she looked up and into his eyes, "Okay, Ed?"

Get back…? Oh yeah…. He and Al were 'invited' to see them. To hold counsel with them for reasons unbeknownst to him.

Well… Whatever it was, he at the very least knew that it would be far from pleasant.

Nodding languidly, he replied, "Alright…"

* * *

"You nearly left me!"

As Edward descended the staircase, he looked over to see that the living room was near filled to capacity. Besides Teacher, Sig and Alphonse, Dr. Marcoh, Dr. Knox, and another individual were present.

"Please, Yoki, calm yourself," Dr. Marcoh pleaded as he raised his hands in an attempt to console the irate, disgraced former Lieutenant.

"How can I calm down when you nearly left me to fend against those monsters? I could have died out there-!"

The moment Edward reached the final step, the room's occupants all turned to look at him, the heated conversation they were having completely lost to them, and the room growing eerily quiet. Looking up to survey then, he saw a Teacher and Sig watching him, their faces knowing and sad. The same expressions they wore once when he woke up while staying with them most recently in Dublith; when he had had a nightmare about Nina…

So they heard him…

"Edward," Izumi began as she took a step toward him.

Pretending that he didn't hear her, he looked around until his eyes fell on Alphonse, whose soul-fire eyes were watching him intently. "It's almost time to go," he murmured, to which Al nodded.

"It is… But Brother, maybe we—"

"No, Al," Edward said as he shook his head, "We have to go. You heard what they said. As long as we cooperate, everything will be alright."

"So you're going to meet with them," Izumi asked as she stepped forward. When Edward nodded, she closed her eyes and sighed, holding that expression for a few moments before opening them again and said, "And there isn't another way?"

Shaking his head again, he muttered, "We need to play by their rules. If we step out of line, something could happen."

Her shoulders sagged, but her expression told him that he was right. She had been there; she heard their warning and the truth that rang in it. They needed to comply…Because as long as they did… the darkness wouldn't return…

* * *

Something was amiss and floating through the air of Central Command, but it was difficult for the brothers to determine what it was as they walked the halls and headed toward Mustang's office. Close-knit circles huddled together, murmured and barely audible words exchanged between officers that told the brothers that something had happened… And judging by the way they positioned themselves, it seemed that the secrets and whispered musings were about something big.

For a moment Edward considered that maybe the military had found out about what had happened, but he was quick to shove that thought away whenever he passed a group of soldiers and received less than a quick glance in their direction. The red coat and suit of armor were the boys' trademark, the boys that were taken under Mustang's wing. If there had been even a single rumor regarding the young 'General,' surely they would have been scrutinized further. No… It was something else…

As they neared the doors to Mustang's office, Edward's stomach began to twist in knots in anticipation of seeing them again. The thoughts of the shadows and nightmare still hung in his mind, causing him to slow his pace as they approached. By the time they were within earshot, however, the sound of an argument reached Edward's ears and caused him to stop and strain to listen.

Furrowing his brows, he looked up at Alphonse to see that he too had stopped and begun to stare at the door with concern. But before they could consider approaching it once more, the doors flew open and Breda burst out with a manila folder tucked under his arm. Either not noticing the boys or ignoring them, he turned on his heels and began to storm in the opposite direction of them.

"Oh, so you did decide to show up?"

Whipping his head around, Edward saw 'Mustang' leaning against the door frame, a wicked smirk plastered on his face.

Narrowing his eyes and pushing down the uneasiness that had begun to rise within him, Edward muttered, "What was that all about?"

With a dismissive wave of his hand, the General said, "That's something we can discuss once we're inside."

Edward watched him as he turned to head back into his collection of offices, and did not immediately decide to follow. When the General took notice of his, he turned toward Edward, a look of discontent crossing his face. "Are you coming," he asked, his words dripping with annoyance.

Balling his hands into fists, Edward stole one last glance down the hallway and managed to catch sight of Breda as he rounded the corner and disappeared.

"Well…?"

Snapping his head back around toward 'Mustang,' Edward muttered, "I'm coming," as he took a step forward.

But when Alphonse made a move to follow, 'Mustang' raised his hand and said, "Sorry, Alphonse. Military personnel only."

"What," Alphonse gasped, taken aback by his sudden exclusion.

Sneering at 'Mustang' and taking a step back, Edward growled, "Al's always been allowed to be in a debrief with me. If he isn't included, then you can count me out."

The General's face darkened for a moment before he contained whatever his thoughts were and he mildly shook his head. "Unfortunately, Alphonse will not be permitted to listen in this time. And before you back out completely, I will say that this is pertinent and sensitive material that I'm confident you'll want to hear."

The corner of Edward's lip twitched as he eyed the Homunculus with disdain. After a few moments, he relented and muttered, "Al… I want you to stay out here. Wait for me until I'm finished."

"But… Brother."

"Don't, Al. Just… listen to what he says," Edward replied as he looked back at him out of the corner of his eye, praying that his younger sibling would understand.

When his soul-fire eyes met Edward's, Alphonse nodded his helmet slowly and took a step back. "I'll wait out here then, Brother."

Trying his best to shoot him a reassuring smile, Edward turned his attention back to Mustang and growled, "Alright, I'm ready."

Scoffing lightly, the General pushed the door open wider and allowed Edward to see into the room. Aside from 'the Lieutenant' standing beside Mustang's desk wearing a smile that sent almost made Edward reconsider entering, there was only a solitary chair situated in the room's middle, akin to a set up for an interrogation.

Swallowing back the tightness that had begun to constrict his throat, Edward stole one last glance at his brother before allowing himself to be ushered inside.

* * *

"Lieutenant Breda, wait! … What's going on," Alphonse squeaked as jogged after the distressed officer. He saw the heavyset man glance over his shoulder at him before his eyes scanned over to a conference room they were passing. Abruptly changing direction, Breda led Alphonse into the room and briskly closed the door behind him.

"Lieutenant Breda…" Alphonse began again as he took a step toward the man, whose shoulders slumped as he leaned against the door.

Looking up at the young boy with tired eyes, the Lieutenant muttered, "We've been reassigned. We have forty-eight hours to report to our new stations."

"Reassigned," Alphonse squeaked. "Reassigned where?"

Curling his fingers into a fist, the Lieutenant growled, "Fuery's been sent to the combat division in the south… Falman to the northern fort of Briggs. And I've been reassigned to a General at Western Command."

"What," Alphonse yelped as he took a step toward the defeated officer. "They can't do that… There has to be a way to—"

"We've already tried getting out of it," Breda explained. "We threatened to resign and leave, but they threatened us back." Tightening the fist he had formed and pushing it against the door until his knuckles glowed white, he continued, "They pulled out the addresses of our families. My mother, Fuery's sister, Falman's brother and family. All of them were threatened.

"They told us that if we so much as made a move to oppose them or leave or even tell our families about the possibility of danger, they would kill them all. Every single one of them."

"That's… that's not right," Alphonse cried as he watched the man continue to fracture before him.

"And it's not just us," Breda added. "No doubt they're making threats toward your brother right now. That must be the reason they separated you two. Because if you're not there beside him or in his sight, he's more cooperative."

"Then… Then I have to go see him," Alphonse said as he made a move toward the door Breda was leaned against. "They won't stop me from going in. I have to be there for him. I have to—"

"Alphonse."

The suit of armor stopped in his tracks, eyeing Breda as he turned his head to look at him.

"If you're planning on going and barging in there to upset them even more, there's something else you should know first."

"What is it," Alphonse asked guardedly.

Letting loose a haggard sigh, the Lieutenant replied, "I don't think they're stopping at just us, kid. Haven't you heard the news?"

"What news," Alphonse asked. "Are you referring to what everyone's been talking about? Brother and I couldn't hear, but it sounded like something important is happening."

"Something is," the Second Lieutenant confirmed as he loosed his fist and allowed it to fall to his side. Turning completely to look at Alphonse, he said, "The Fuhrer collapsed in his office today. They said it could've been a heart attack or something.

"He was rushed to the hospital and is in critical condition at this point. They're unsure if he's going to make it or not."

"And… And you think they have something to do with this?"

"I have no doubt they do. The Fuhrer is an older man, but he's in peak physical condition. It's just too convenient… The two of them taking hold of the Colonel and Lieutenant at the same time?

"They're planning something, Alphonse. And whatever it is, it involves the entire military… and the entire nation of Amestris…"

* * *

Edward dug his fingertips into the wood of the chair he was seated in until they felt raw, keeping himself rigid and glued to his chair as the General looked on with anger. "For the last time," he said with a low growl, "I don't know where they are. We separated from Marcoh and Scar after we saw _her_." Allowing his eyes to flicker over to Lust, he saw her lips curl upward into a smirk. Feeling his chest tighten with uneasiness, he forced himself to look back at 'Mustang' in time to see him rubbing the bridge of his nose.

Then, after letting loose a long and drawn out sigh, he leaned back against his desk and folded his arms over his chest. "I don't have all day, Fullmetal. I have more pertinent things to deal with than argue back and forth with you."

Relaxing his grip on the chair, Edward leaned back and mirrored the General and said, "Well, I don't have all day either. So why don't you get to the point of my visit? I have a feeling it isn't just about Scar and Dr. Marcoh."

"Changing the subject now, are we," 'Mustang' replied with a less than amused tone.

"No… Just wanting to get to the point of this little meeting you made such a big deal about," he replied dryly. "And maybe if we're lucky something will trigger my memory as to which way Marcoh and Scar ran."

After screwing his eyes closed and inhaling deeply through his nose and holding it for a few moments, he slowly released it and opened his eyes, the irritated air about him slowly draining away. Composing himself once more, he authoritatively stated, "In one week you will accompany me to Fort Briggs."

"And why would I do that," Edward challenged as he leaned forward in his chair.

Moving his shoulders up and down, the General replied, "You'll be debriefed shortly before departure. You've been granted one week to sort out any issues you may have with your automail."

"So you just want us to just pack up and follow you up there without any hesitation?"

"'Us,'" 'Mustang' echoed back as he raised a brow. "Just like I said for this meeting, Alphonse is not military, and is thereby prohibited from accompanying you on anymore missions."

"What," Edward snapped as he leapt up from his chair, knocking it over in the process. "Why the hell do you think I'd agree to something like that?" Thrusting his thumb at himself, he snarled, "Wherever I go, Al goes too. There's no way in hell I'd—"

He was cut off by a laugh. Turning his head toward Lust, he watched as she lowered her hand from her mouth and smirked at him. "You haven't heard all of the conditions yet, boy."

"That's right," 'Mustang' replied. "So why don't you take your seat and allow me to finish… Because this is something you'll want to be very attentive toward."

The corner of his lip twitching as he kept his focused gaze on the pair, Edward slowly took a step backward and seized the chair in his grasp. Setting it back on its four legs, a little further back than them than before, he slowly lowered himself into it and wove his fingers together in his lap. Leaning forward and bracing his elbows on his knees, he grumbled, "I'm listening…"

"Good," 'Mustang' replied dryly as he leaned back against his desk once again. "To summarize, you will accompany me to Fort Briggs in one week for an inspection that's details will remain confidential until the time shortly before departure.

"Alphonse will not be allowed to accompany due to his status as a civilian. Instead," he continued, "He will still be allowed access to the library and will be able to accompany the Lieutenant for more mild missions.

"In addition, he and Winry will be asked to—"

"Hold on," Edward snapped the moment Winry was mentioned, "Winry has nothing to do with you _or_ the military. She's not part of this whatsoever."

"Oh," the General said as he raised a brow, "Quite the contrary, actually. You see, Fullmetal, she became part of this the moment you decided to drag her with you the other day. It's clear to us that she knows too much now. Simply letting her go about her merry way without facing some form of repercussion.

"And," he added as Edward gaped at him, a sinister smile touching his lips, "We figured she'd want to stick around to help that friend of yours. It was Lan Fan, right?"

Feeling the blood drain from his face, Edward watched as the two of them exchanged a knowing glance between themselves. His eyes darting back to Edward, 'Mustang' said, "It's true, isn't it? It makes sense, after all. An injury of that caliber would require the work of a skilled individual; one that knows the human body and the anatomy of limbs very well." Dark eyes wandering over to Edward's metal shoulder, he smirked. "The pieces were hardly difficult to piece together."

Dipping his head slightly and looking up at them through his lashes, Edward muttered, "You still have no jurisdiction over Winry. She has no association with the military and doesn't want any part of it."

"I think this might change her mind," the Lieutenant said as she stepped behind Mustang's desk and opened the top drawer. As she rummaged through it, she said, "It just so happens that there's a temporary position open that calls for a skilled automail engineer to work on the prosthetics of active duty officers." When she found the piece of paper she was looking for, she strode around the desk and handed it to him for his discretion.

"What is this," he muttered as he gripped the sheet of paper tighter and tighter, his eyes quickly scanning over it. It wasn't a job description as he had suspected. Instead, it was a lengthy list of names and addresses… All of them situated in Rush Valley.

"I think you know," Lust said as she raised a brow. "Every single one of your beloved friend's clients are on that list. And see this address at the bottom?"

Edward's eyes scanned down to the name and address on the bottom of the sheet of paper, and instantly felt his blood run cold. In big, bold letters was 'Pinako Rockbell' and the address of Rockbell Automail in Resembool was listed clear as day.

"If she refuses to cooperate, we will be make sure that every single person on this list vanishes without a trace."

Looking up at her to see the triumphant grin plastered on her face, Edward snarled, "So you're taking her hostage is what you're saying? Alphonse and Winry?"

"'Hostage' has such a negative connotation," she replied as she took a few steps back and crossed her arms. "I'd prefer to think of them as 'collateral.'"

"'Collateral,'" he replied warily. "And why are they collateral? So you can keep me in line?"

"You got it," the General confirmed with a nod. "Mustang doesn't think of you as a prodigy for nothing, after all.

"So," he went on, "The conditions are relatively simple now that we've spelled them out. You are to accompany me to Fort Briggs in a week's time. Meanwhile, Alphonse and Winry will be subcontracted to work with the military. And if all goes according to plan, which I assume it will, the moment we return from our excursion you will be allowed to reunite with them, no harm no foul."

"And if I refuse," Edward slowly challenged, though he felt he already knew the answer.

Shrugging his shoulders up and down, 'Mustang' replied, "Then we will not hesitate to kill ever single one of the people on that list… Including Winry." His charcoal eyes glinting with subtle amusement, he added, "And we won't hesitate to."

"So all we have to do is cooperate," Edward asked slowly, carefully. "And once I get back, Alphonse and Winry will be allowed to leave?"

"That's correct," the General replied. "Simple, right?"

Feeling beads of sweat begin to form on his brow, Edward separated his hands and balled them into fists and rested them on his knees. "Although… I want you to answer me this," he said, "You didn't think of a way to rein in Teacher. After all, she's a threat too."

"True," 'Mustang' acknowledged, "Although you and your brother are our most valuable pawns. If we can control you, then we automatically control her. And even if she did move around on her own, we know you wouldn't want her to get too combative… Especially if that means there's a chance to save your beloved Colonel and Lieutenant."

His eyes widening, Edward uttered, "… What?"

Tilting his head slightly, 'Mustang' elaborated, "You of all people should understand the basic mechanisms of alchemy, Fullmetal."

"Heh… Just in case I missed that lesson, give me a quick reminder," Edward retorted, trying his best to hide any shred of hope or eagerness from his face. Because if they were willing to offer a hint as to how to give the Colonel and Lieutenant their bodies back, he was willing to listen.

Shaking his head side to side, the General replied, "I'll let you mull over that for a while. I don't want to give away too much information… because where's the fun in that?"

Clutching his fists tighter, Edward watched and waited for them to falter in their expressions. But when they didn't, he sighed and muttered, "So is there anything else you want me to know? Besides the fact that we're now your pawns?"

Just as Mustang started to respond, a loud creak reached their ears. All of them turning in unison, they watched as someone crawled through the office's window and land on the flood with a graceful thud. When the individual rose and turned toward them, Edward's stomach flipped. That was—

"Yo," Ling called in a pitch that threw Edward. It was deeper and oddly familiar. As if he had heard it before…

Not seeing him immediately, Ling took a few steps toward the General and Lieutenant and placed one hand on his hips, using the other to gesture toward the window. "Your next appointment is waiting. Fresh out of prison and ready to—"

"Ling?" Edward's eyes grazed over his long-lost friend, drinking in his unusual appearance and tone and… A familiar mark on his hand. Feeling his throat tighten, he swallowed involuntarily and focused on the mark. The accursed mark was in the same location that—

"Ling?" He asked as he turned toward Edward, seemingly noticing him for the first time. After processing the name for a few moments, he grinned. "Oh, you mean that brat I stole this body from?" Jabbing his thumb proudly toward himself, he corrected, "The name's Greed."

"Greed," Edward gasped. "But you were in Dublith! How—"

Raising his brows with surprise, Greed interrupted him and said, "Dublith? Oh, you're probably thinking of the former Greed. I," he continued as he gestured to himself once again, "Am the new and improved Greed."

He knew what Fu had told him, but he had been so focused, so intent on getting to the bottom of Mustang and Hawkeye's predicament that his mind didn't even have time to process the information regarding his friend. But now that he, or at least his body, was standing in front of him, exactly as Fu had described, Edward couldn't help but feel nauseous. They had really taken them… They had taken Mustang, Hawkeye, and Ling…

Three people now. Three people that he couldn't save…

"You alright?"

Looking up and seeing them all looking at his lap, Edward immediately looked down to see that his balled up fists were trembling slightly, the knuckles on his flesh hand a radiant white from a lack of adequate blood flow.

"I'm fine," he rumbled as he looked up at them again and exhaled… All _three_ of them.

"Good," the General replied bluntly. "Then if you're alright, you are free to go."

Edward refused to move, his eyes wandering between the three of them as they watched him intently. There was something more to this…

When the Lieutenant coughed into the back of her hand, his eyes immediately were drawn back to her. He watched for a moment as she rubbed her hands together before clasping them behind her back. But just as he was about to look away and back toward the piercing gaze of 'Mustang,' he saw a small trickle of red escape her lip.

Obviously seeing it as well, the General took a step forward and muttered dismissively, "I'll see you in exactly one week, Fullmetal."

Sliding his chair back, Edward slowly rose to his feet and took a step away from the General, keeping his gaze locked on charcoal eyes while also keeping tabs on the Lieutenant as she angled her body away from him. Taking another step back, he muttered, "One week then…"

"One week," 'Mustang' elaborated as he raised his pointer finger. "Here and in my office by oh-nine-hundred hours. Don't forget your jacket. The weather up there this time of year is a bit brisk."

"Alright," he absently agreed as he stopped his advancement backward and watched the trio, waiting to see if any of them would make a move. "Before I go, I just have to ask something." Looking past them and at Greed, he uttered, "I know that the Colonel and Lieutenant are held against their will and I just have to know… Did you take Ling against his too?"

Folding his arms over his chest, Greed proudly said, "Nope. This kid wanted his body raided. He handed it over to me no problem." Moving a shoulder up and down, he added, "He got the immortality he wanted. He just has to share it with me."

"So he's still in there?"

"You betcha," Greed proclaimed as he flashed his teeth. "Loud, proud, and a hell of an annoyance."

"I see," Edward replied languidly. When 'Mustang' made a move toward him again, Edward turned his back to him and began to trudge toward the door. But when he made it there and grasped the handle, he stopped and, keeping his gaze locked on the mahogany, uttered, "Tell Ling, the Lieutenant, and the Colonel that I won't stop… Not until our bodies are back… And theirs."

Before they could reply, he thrust the door open and stepped out of Mustang's office, and slammed it behind him.

* * *

"The boy's determined," Wrath muttered severely as they descended the stairs and into the catacombs beneath Central Command. "Despite being dealt a losing hand."

"Well, your small proclamation about the Colonel and Lieutenant was enough to ignite the fire in those eyes," Lust pointed out as she instinctually fell into step two steps behind him. "It was enough to keep him interested."

"As long as he hangs on to that shred of hope, he'll cooperate up at Briggs. And as long as Alphonse knows that as well, he and Winry will play into your hands just as easily." When she hummed in reply, he added, "And if we fail to locate Marcoh and Scar within the next week, you will be tasked with extracting that information from them."

"Gladly," she retorted.

"And another thing," he said as he slowed his pace so that she was striding alongside him. "That blood from earlier. You need to control her better."

Scowling, she muttered, "The Lieutenant is relentless, but I will assure you that she will see things my way soon enough."

"Good," Wrath replied bluntly as a form adorned in white came into view. "Because her continued resistance is taking its toll on you."

As he tapered off, the person pushed himself off of the wall and tipped his hat back to reveal dark eyes and a gleeful grin. As his eyes darted between them and his smile grew, Solf J. Kimblee extended his hand toward Wrath and mused, "Well, well. I thought they told me about you two just to get me out of prison, but now that I'm here I can say that they weren't lying to me."

When Wrath took hold of his hand, Kimblee looked him dead in the eye, his piercing gaze caused Mustang's soul to begin shake with anger. Seemingly realizing this, he purred, "Welcome to hell, Mustang."

* * *

 **A/N:** _Sorry for the lack of action this chapter and the seemingly vague plotpoints. All of them will be made clear soon. The next one will be more intense. And as a Halloween treat, here is a snapshot of a scene from the next chapter that does have major significance and reasoning for the fic:_

Grabbing the lapels of his jacket, Riza thrust him against the wall and pushed her body flush with Roy's, pressing her lips forcefully against his. Reluctance and restraint were tossed to the wind and merely became momentous thoughts. Because right now the only thing that was driving her was the sensation that had slammed into her the moment that she had regained control. A sensation that her body and soul could not seem to ignore.

That feeling that had overcome her. That desire. That lust.

 _Again, thank you so much for the favorites, follows, and reviews! You guys are wonderful and your support is amazing! I'll try to shoot for a shorter, faster chapter next time._


	9. Chapter 9

**Quick A/N** : _Riza's action toward the end of this chapter might seem OOC, though it will make sense at the end. Figured I'd warn you because of the steam in this chapter (no higher than a T, though, just like this story is rated!). Happy reading!_

* * *

"I don't like this at all," Izumi muttered as she folded her arms and looked between the two boys.

Edward closed his eyes and exhaled. After tossing the entire situation around in his head a few more times, his shoulders slumped and he looked up at her. "There isn't anything that can be done," he replied quietly. "They have us by our throats."

Seeing his tired expression, her face softened. "I know. I just wish he would have given you more details about what you would be doing up at Briggs. The north isn't anything to mess around with, especially when you have automail limbs."

"That's why he gave me a week," Edward reminded her. "So that Winry could make any adjustments she needed to. The fact that they even factored her into the equation means that they put a lot of thought into this." When Izumi nodded, he took the opportunity to steal a glance at Winry, seeing that her face remained as passive as it had been before. He had always been excellent at reading her expressions, but even then he was having a difficult time reading her mind. Edward wasn't sure what to think at that moment about her reaction to it all. She had just kind of…. Shut down.

"The thing I don't get…-"

Edward's head snapped back to Teacher when he heard her voice.

"The thing I don't get," she said again. "Is how they knew to factor everything into this. What I want to know is how they managed to figure us out in such a short span of time. They said it wasn't difficult putting the pieces together.

"General Grumman said that his relation to Lieutenant Hawkeye wasn't known to the military. That only by searching the most confidential of records would bring their familial relation to light. I'm just having a hard time believing that they were able to piece that together so quickly. That and Colonel Mustang's relationship with his aunt.

"According to Chris he was not required to give any information about her when he joined the military, seeing that he was of age at the time. Since his parents have been dead for years, the only information he was required to give was that fact alone.

"That's what's worrying me. I fear that the Colonel and the Lieutenant-"

"No," Edward said, cutting her off as he shook his head. "You weren't there when we spoke to them. The Colonel and Lieutenant… They'd never readily give them information that was that important."

The corners of Teacher's lips turned downward. "Then how do you explain their wealth of knowledge, Edward? From my understanding, the Homunculi and the Colonel and Lieutenant's souls are two separate entities. The only way they would be able to know these things was if they were supplying the enemy with their secrets."

"I guess," Edward began slowly. "But I just don't think that-" He cut himself off, however, when a thought crossed his mind. Deep down he knew that Mustang and Hawkeye would never give them the information they needed. He had seen the way they fought against the Homunculi. And… He saw the devastation on their faces when they told him to 'end them.' There was no way they would give them the information they needed. There was just no way…

"What if," he began as he looked up at her again, his mind slowly beginning to turn. "What if they were able to read their thoughts? Get into their heads since they share the same body."

"Do you think that's possible, though," she asked as she sat back and eyed him critically.

Edward's eyes suddenly widened. Whipping his head around and toward Dr. Marcoh, who had been sitting and absorbing their conversation in silence, Edward uttered, "Dr. Marcoh…" When the doctor focused on him and raised his brows in reply, he continued, "Do you think it's possible? That they'd be able to get into Mustang and Hawkeye's heads?"

The doctor pursed his lips and looked down at his lap, tossing the question around in his mind. After a few moments of contemplation, he looked up at Edward and said, "I suppose it could be… But at a great price."

"What does that mean," Izumi asked as she raised her brows.

"Think of it like this," he explained as he unclasped his hands and raised them up to his chest level, slowly gesturing as he began to talk. "If there are two separate individuals with their own memories and pasts, it is impossible to know what the other is thinking without one of them directly telling the other what is on their minds.

"But," he continued as he pressed his forefingers together and pulled them apart, as if drawing a string in midair, "If there was a connection between them, the information could flow more readily.

"A Philosopher's Stone is composed of a multitude of souls bonded together to create a source of energy. In order to create it, these souls must have connections with each other to stabilize the Stone." He paused for a moment, his expression faltering as he began to piece together the information that was cycling in his mind. "So in order to homogenize them and use their power for the Stone, these connections must be made and sustained."

"What do you mean 'homogenize'," Edward as he wove his fingers together and pitched forward, his elbows on his knees as he leaned closer to the doctor.

The doctor pursed his lips paused for a moment, as if uncertain he wanted to go on. But after looking between both Izumi and Edward, he at last gave in and sighed. "By homogenize I mean integrating all souls into one Stone, making them all part of the same interconnected system within it."

Edward felt as if the doctor had stood up and drove his fist into his gut. His eyes widened as they darted down to his hands in his lap, a gasp escaping his lips as he tried to refill his lungs after the metaphorical blow. After taking a few quiet breaths to regulate his breathing again, he looked up at the doctor and muttered, "So what you're saying is that the Homunculi could have access to their memories… because they're trying to absorb the Colonel and Lieutenant's souls to add to their Stones?"

He saw the doctor tense, and then felt his heart sink as Marcoh stiffly nodded his head in clarification.

"Is that really even possible," Izumi asked, cutting in as Edward looked down at his fists again.

Marcoh sighed heavily. "All of the capabilities of the Philosopher's Stone are still unknown to me, but I fear that this may very well be in the realm of possibility."

"We have to stop this," Edward growled as he looked up at them again. "There's no way in hell we can back down now. We have to be around them as much as possible now. If we can keep giving Mustang and Hawkeye a reason to keep living, then maybe we can stop the Homunculi once and for all."

"Both Ed and Al are going to be stuck under the direct supervision of those monsters," Izumi snapped, "All because they're hiding behind the Colonel and Lieutenant's faces. If they succeed in absorbing their souls, then there will be no one to stop them from harming the boys.

"Edward," she continued as she turned to the boy, her eyes blazing with newfound intensity. "If you're adamant on going to the North with that Homunculus, then I'm going too. Sig can stay behind with Alphonse and—"

"No," he argued as he balled his hands into fists, "You can't! You know what they said; we have to follow through or else-"

"I cannot accept that, Edward," she replied hardly. "Because right now this revelation completely turns the tables. I won't sit idly while you're whisked away to the North to do god-knows-what with that monster—"

"Just… listen to me," Edward yelled, causing her to pause mid-tirade. Seeing that he had stopped her, he uttered, "Teacher, you know what they'll do if we don't comply. Innocent people will die and I _refuse_ to be the reason for destroying anymore lives.

"Alphonse and I aren't kids anymore, Teacher. We need to own up to our mistakes and keep moving forward. And right now we have to follow through with their demands to make sure that we can protect those we care about… Including the Colonel and Lieutenant.

"We have to do this. You said yourself that you would help us at all costs. So help us like you said you would. Help us by letting us go to do this."

Izumi pressed her lips together and eyed the boy critically. But at that moment he was far too riled up to back down. She needed to understand that they had to do this. Now that the stakes were raised, it was pertinent that they keep close to the Homunculi… and subsequently Mustang and Hawkeye. When she opened her mouth to respond, Edward instinctively flinched, waiting for her retaliation and ready to fight again. Instead, however, she relented. "I still want a way of keeping tabs on you, Edward. The North is no laughing matter. The men of Briggs will tear apart any boy or man they see that is unfit to be there."

"There may be a way, then," Edward muttered as he relaxed, finally seeing she was on his side once more. "One of Mustang's men is getting sent up there. He and the others will be leaving their positions to go to their newly designated posts."

"And don't forget," Dr. Marcoh chimed in, "I will be making a trip up there as soon as Scar has healed. He's still adamant about retrieving his brother's research. From what I've gathered, it's located just a few clicks from Briggs's territory."

"That's right," Izumi murmured as she pressed a finger to her lips and immersed herself in deep thought. "And you said you would be leaving within a few days?"

"Yes," Marcoh confirmed. "And I would be more than happy to relay any messages from Briggs to you about Edward's status."

Izumi shook her head. "No, that won't be necessary." Turning back to Edward and looking him in the eye, she added, "Because I will be going with you."

Upon hearing her words, Edward's jaw dropped open. "Teacher, no, you can't be—"

"I'm sorry, Edward," she said as she cut him off. "But if I can't go to Briggs with you, then I'm going to do the next best thing. And before you try to talk me out of it," she said as he began to open his mouth in protest, "I want you to hear me out." When Edward reluctantly closed his mouth, she continued, "You said yourself that keeping you and Alphonse beneath their thumbs was a way of controlling us. So if we vanish when they split the two of you up, there is no way they can keep us under their jurisdiction.

"Either way we have to vanish. Scar is a wanted criminal. Keeping him here will endanger everyone else that is around. And the fact that they are aware Lan Fan is here is proof enough that they're hot on her trail. If they manage to find us all here, who knows what they'll do.

"Our best bet is to fragment and spread out. We can work out the details in the coming days."

"Teacher," Edward said, finally managing to cut in, "We can't expect you to do this. Al and I can—"

She turned back to him, a warm smile playing on her lips. "You can say what you want, Edward. But you won't change my mind on the matter. You may say that you and Al aren't children anymore, but to me you'll always be the two young boys that came to me to learn alchemy.

"It's okay to still get help, Ed," she said. "You just said it yourself. You want me to help you? Then this is the way for me to do it." Turning back to Dr. Marcoh, she said, "Let's discuss this in more detail. I have a few questions for you that I'd prefer to have you answer in private."

Marcoh nodded in agreement, but not before letting his eyes wander over to Edward briefly. When he seemingly saw that Edward had slipped into a deep spell of thought, he hurriedly rose to his feet and was led out of the room by Teacher to go and discuss the matter further.

Moments after Teacher and Dr. Marcoh left the room to discuss the matter further, Edward bowed his head and sighed. He thought he could do it on his own so that he could prevent more people from getting involved. But all he was doing was drawing more and more people into his mess…

The sound of footsteps, too light to be Knox's or Sigs or Al's, but too heavy to be Fu's, suggested to Ed that it was only one other person. The one person he couldn't face directly after telling her that she was now a temporary military dog.

No… Even worse than that. A military tool…

When Winry sat down next to him, he tensed, waiting for her to say something. But when he didn't, he found himself wanting to break the silence; wanting to see how she really felt about his revelation. "I'm sorry," he uttered as he clasped his hands and bowed forward, resting his elbows on his knees. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw her turn toward him.

"There isn't anything to be sorry about, Ed," she said quietly.

He fidgeted. Despite her words being seemingly genuine, he could still detect a hint of resentment in them. Whether or not that resentment was angled at him, he couldn't tell.

"No," he said as he shook his head. "There is. I should never have asked you to stay behind to help with Lan Fan. After everything that went down that night, expecting you to come here and help without facing any repercussions was stupid of me.

"The fact still remains that they saw you here with me and they were able to put together that you were here because of your caring nature. You're here because I took advantage of your kindness and now everyone you know in Rush Valley is at risk." Looking back down at his hands, he began to weave his fingers together and pull them apart, repeating the motion over and over again until he worked up the nerve to speak again. "And then Granny… She's targeted as well."

He saw her purse her lips out of the corner of his eye, and his heart sank a little. She wasn't refuting his claim or arguing with him. She blamed him for it and had, rather than acknowledge it, decided to remain silent. Maybe it was better that way. After all, he deserved it. "Heh," he said as a small smile crept over his lips, "It's just like me to pull everyone into something like this, isn't it? Thinking back, I guess it's been the only thing I've been good at. Not building things or alchemy or destroying my automail.

"All I've ever done was pull everyone into my mess. Al and I wanted to see our mom again, but I was the one to initiate and convince him to help me carry out the transmutation that night… And Lieutenant Colonel Hughes… It was because of my persistence that he was even interested in learning about what was going on. If I hadn't been so incessant about the whole damn thing, he would probably still be alive today… and Elicia would have her father again, and Mrs. Hughes would have her husband.

"And then," he said as he clenched his hands tighter, turning his flesh hand a pale white as he gripped it harder and harder, "It was because of my involvement and snooping around after that that led to what happened to the Colonel and Lieutenant. They're in this mess because of me and my hubris.

"And you," he continued as he clutched his flesh hand tighter, causing his fingers to loosen and his knuckles to crack. "I dragged you into all of this… And now your life is in their hands and I'm powerless to stop any of it. All because I asked you to stay behind so that I could go and figure out what was going on. It was my carelessness and lack of thought that brought this upon you and Granny and Rush Valley-"

He had been so caught up with his bout of self-loathing that he hadn't realized that she had slipped off the couch and was on her knees in front of him. He only comprehended it when she pried his hands apart and held them between her own.

When Edward looked up at her, he saw that her eyes were shining, her expression one of sympathy and compassion. Giving his hands a gentle shake in an attempt to pull him out of his self-condemnation, she asked, "Ed… Is that what you really think?"

His watched her, feeling his face soften as he silently conveyed to her that yes, this was what he believed. He wholeheartedly felt that this was his doing and his doing alone.

Her eyes softened and a small sigh escaped her lips as she looked up at him. Feeling a lump form in his throat, he turned his head and casted his eyes away from her, keeping his focus on the couch cushions beside him.

"Ed…"

He flinched despite her soft tone but couldn't bring himself to look at her. She said his name again, this time her tone firmer. Swallowing the lump, he forced himself to look at her, and then saw that the smallest pinprick tears dotting the corners of her eyes.

When she saw that she had his attention, knowing that he saw that she was holding them back, she shook her head and said, "Don't worry. I'm not going to cry now… Not until you and Al get your bodies back… and theirs.

"Ed… Is that really what you've been holding back all this time?" When he began to look away, she gave his flesh hand a tight squeeze, causing him to look back at her. In that short moment of time, her expression had changed. The tear droplets were gone and her expression had a newfound intensity to it. Looking him straight in the eye, she uttered, "Edward Elric, I won't let you feel this way.

"Everything you mentioned, everything you've said, someone else contributed as well. Do not think for one second that everything has to fall onto your shoulders.

"On that night all those years ago, when Al brought you to Granny and me, I knew what you two had done. And it wasn't just you that sacrificed part of yourself that night. Alphonse did too. He was just as responsible for it as you were, Ed."

"Win, I—"

"I'm not finished," she said as she shook her head, keeping her eyes locked on his. When he closed his mouth, she continued, "And Mr. Hughes…" Her voice grew quiet and for a moment her eyes drifted away from his as memories of the late man flooded her mind. "And Mr. Hughes…" She looked back at him again, the smallest of smiles playing on her lips, "He was a great man, Ed. Mrs. Hughes told me all about how he loved to help people, especially you two.

"He devoted his entire life to his family and friends. If he knew that you, his friends, felt this way about his passing, I don't think he would agree.

"He was an incredible man, Ed. But in addition to his dedication to his loved ones, he was also very committed to his work. He knew the risks and…" She paused for a moment to suck in a deep breath before continuing on. "And he lost his life because of that pursuit.

"I have no doubt that Mr. Hughes would do it over again if it meant that his death would still have meaning.

"And now," she said as she gave his hands a squeeze again, "You've been blaming yourself for this. Colonel Mustang and Miss Riza are a lot like Mr. Hughes; dedicated with their eyes fixed on their goals. What happened to them couldn't have been your fault, Ed. Can't you see that? Something in the military did this and you're blaming yourself for being there in the wrong place at the wrong time.

"And as for me," she continued, her eyes boring into his, "I stayed behind because I wanted do. When I got that call to come and help, I did not hesitate in any way. I wanted to come, Ed; because you asked me to.

"I did it of my own volition because I wanted to help. So please," she quietly begged, "Please understand that this does not all fall on you. Other people and their choices led to every single instance you referenced.

"Please don't weigh yourself down, Ed, because I won't be here to set you on the right path again."

At her mention of not being around, his heart began to ache. It was a surreal feeling to him, one he had, and yet had not, experienced before. Maybe it was because before he knew he would be able to see her at any time. And now with him being leashed and chained like a dog, he no longer had the luxury to return to Resembool to see her again… Not that she would be there anyways.

The thought that they had taken her as a hostage as well shook him to his core. She, who truly did not have any stakes in the matter, had suddenly become the piece of the puzzle with the highest risk. Because if he slipped up, she and Al had the potential to get hurt… as well as every single person on that list.

Seeing her that determined, however, eased the pressure that was in his chest. There she went again, being stronger than anyone on that mix and match team that was assembled under Knox's residence. Once again proving how amazing she truly was…

"Well?"

He jumped slightly, unaware that she had been talking to him. Looking back at her, he saw that she was eyeing him critically.

When she saw that she had his attention, she repeated herself. "Do you promise me that you won't think these things about yourself again, Ed?"

He hesitated for a moment, the words he had spoken already beginning to cloud his mind and wedge themselves into its darkest corners yet again. But when he looked into her eyes, the light turned back on and chased the shadowy doubts he had away… for the time being.

"Or at the very least," she said, "Do you promise to break your automail enough to the point where I have to come to you for maintenance?"

This time a faint smile escaped and turned the corners of his lips upward. Shaking his head, he chuckled and replied, "Alright… I promise."

* * *

"According to the Colonel's memories, it may very well be hell," Wrath muttered as he tested the waters, feeling confident in Mustang's memories. When the deranged former Major cackled, Wrath knew that he had hit the right mark.

Dropping Wrath's hand, Kimblee mused, "I see you have Mustang's dry sense of humor." Turning toward Lust, he took her hand in his and bent at the waist, giving the back of her hand a gentle peck, "And you, Miss Sniper, look just as delighted as you did when I first met you on the battlefield all those years ago." When Lust pressed her lips in a thin line of disapproval, he raised his brows in feigned surprise. "Or would you prefer to be called 'The Hawk's Eye?' I'm not picky."

"'Lieutenant is fine,'" she growled as she tore her hand from his, wiping the back of it on her pants.

Kimblee shrugged and brushed off the rude gesture, looking toward Wrath in time for him to ask, "So what brings you here? I had thought your sentence was going to be fully served."

"Haven't you heard," Kimblee said as he raised his hands and shrugged his shoulders, "They let me out for good behavior.

"It's too bad, however, because their rehabilitation program was less than fulfilling." When both he and Lust eyed him suspiciously, he elaborated, "I heard you're having issue locating a particular serial killer and his newfound best friend, Dr. Marcoh. So since you two have so much on your plates, I've been asked to lend the two of you a hand."

"Is that so," Wrath asked as he folded his arms over his chest.

"It is," Kimblee reiterated with a grin. "But if you want me to catch them, I'm going to need a little bit of cooperation from the two of you."

Casting Lust a glance, Wrath saw that her narrowed eyes were fixated on the former Major, studying him as he talked to them. When she noticed that he was watching her, her eyes flickered over to him, silently agreeing to whatever decision he reached in regards to Kimblee.

Turning back to the man in the white suit, Wrath nodded and said, "Alright, what do you want us to do?"

As a smile crept across his lips, Kimblee mused, "Well, let's first talk about Dr. Marcoh's dearest of friends…"

* * *

After getting their things situated and Jean's chair folded and stowed, Rebecca felt that she was at last able to relax. Shrugging the kinks out of her shoulders and neck, she walked back toward the train compartment that had been generously bestowed on them by the train's conductor after seeing their dog tags and Jean's condition…

Shaking her head, she tried to push the thought of his 'condition' out of her head. She had seen the way he had pressed his lips into a firm line before gratefully accepting it. Rebecca knew that the conductor was trying to be helpful by giving them more room and privacy, but what he didn't know was that Jean was still very sensitive about the topic. He seemed especially sensitive to it after what had happened the other day…

After knocking on the door that led into the compartment, she slid it open and stepped inside, slowly closing the door behind her once she was entirely inside. The blond-haired man seated next to the window did not stir, his chin in his hand and his elbow leaned up against the window, blue eyes fixated on Central Station.

"Jean…?"

"Yeah, Becks," he uttered half-heartedly as the train stuttered to life and began to move away from the platform, his eyes still glued to the people milling around the station outside.

"What are you thinking about," Rebecca asked as she took a seat across from him and leaned forward, resting her hand atop his knee. He did not flinch at her touch, and while she knew it was because he no longer felt it, she still couldn't help but feel disheartened by his lack of response to her movement and question.

He did not respond until the train had completely pulled away from the station and had reached its cruising speed, his voice barely audible above the noise of the metal tracks on the metal wheels of the train. "We're really leaving, aren't we?"

"We're taking you home," Rebecca offered, trying her best to keep her tone even and positive.

Keeping his eyes fixed on the scattered landscape outside heir compartment window, he said, "I knew I'd go home eventually. The city air never did sit right with me. I just never thought it would be like this."

She gave his knee a gentle squeeze. "I don't think anyone knew, Jean. But right now we have to focus on setting you life up back there."

He replied with a short, "Yeah," and a quick glance toward her, quickly following it up by looking out the window again at the passing trees. She watched as he licked his lips and parted them, the telltale sign of his that suggested he was ready for another cigarette.

Rebecca felt a lump form in her throat as she watched him, tears touching the corners of her eyes the longer she did so. Over the past few days she had watched him continue to push himself and push himself, keeping focused on the task at hand, anxiously trying to contribute the best that he could. But after that night it were as if the Jean Havoc she knew and loved hand vanished, leaving behind a man that was hardly recognizable. She blinked, pushing away the negativity.

"I have a feeling we'll be back soon," she offered. "The General and Madame seemed awfully sure of themselves. I wouldn't be surprised if they somehow found a way to contact us within the next week."

"Enough with the positivity. We've lost, Becks. It's time to accept it."

She gasped, taken aback by his damaging tone. Collecting herself, she uttered, "Don't say that," feeling warm tears once again begin to spring forward. "We're regrouping. The General and Madame are reworking their plan! We're just waiting for the next step and—"

"Do you honestly think there's going to be any room for me in that plan, Becks?" When he looked back at her, she felt her heart sink. For once in the span of time she had known him, Rebecca saw hopelessness and doubt clouding his eyes, completely displacing the light she had grown to love.

"He was right… What good am I if I can't even stumble along?" Taking a deep breath, he clenched the fist on his lap and muttered, "The Colonel was just too afraid to tell me that. He let me down easy…"

"Now just hold on a second," Rebecca argued, as he angled his face toward her. "Mustang and I may not have been the closest of friends, and I may not have known what the hell he was thinking most of the time, but one thing that I'm absolutely certain about is his refusal to leave anyone behind.

"He meant what he said, Jean, and you know it."

He swallowed and pursed his lips together again as a new emotion spread across his features. But after struggling to hold it in and ultimately failing at it, he at last let it go. "Damn it," he snarled as he clapped a hand over his eyes and bowed forward, resting his elbow against his knee. "It wasn't supposed to end like this…"

When he clenched his teeth and inhaled sharply, Rebecca quickly slid off of her chair and sat next to him. Reaching up and taking his head in her hands, she pressed it against her shoulder and buried her face into his hair as he gasped, and his body began to quake.

She tried to be strong. Tried to be strong for the two of them. But now seeing the other half of their team crumble beneath the pressure and gravity, Rebecca couldn't help but sink back into the despair she felt the day before. Seeing the two of them together, completely alien and harsh, so unlike the compassionate and kind people they used to be.

They were no longer Riza Hawkeye and Roy Mustang. Instead they had become the enemy… an enemy they would sooner or later be forced to eliminate... unless they themselves wished to be eliminated.

It wasn't fair, Rebecca found herself thinking as she let loose a loud sob. None of it was fair…

* * *

"This isn't good," Edward muttered as he looked down at the newspaper in his hands. For the past few days the only news that reached their ears had been regarding the Fuhrer and his declining condition, with reports coming in constantly in regards to his deteriorating health.

"What are they saying now," Alphonse asked as he leaned over to see the paper as Edward replaced it on the rack and began walking away.

As Al caught up to him and matched his pace with his, Edward mumbled, "They're saying that the country and decisions concerning it are being temporarily handled by a small council that's been formed. But since our constitution explicitly states the need for one tried and true leader, the council will be deciding on a General to temporarily act in the Fuhrer's stead since it's unclear how long he'll be bedridden… And then again, there's always a chance that he won't even live much longer."

Al gasped. "Do you think that was their plan? Promoting the General to Fuhrer?"

"I don't know," Edward admitted as he shoved his hands into his pockets. "I suppose that since he has this new rank now, it's entirely possible. But still," he continued as he turned a corner and began heading down one of Central's side-streets, "It'll be hard to convince the rest of the nation that he's qualified for the job. If he becomes Fuhrer, it's going to raise a lot of questions and garner a lot of attention."

"I wonder who it could be then," Al wondered.

"Who knows," Edward mumbled in reply. "But whoever it is, it's bound to be one of their puppets—" Seeing a shadow move out of the corner of his eye, Edward jumped and whirled around, his heart leaping in his chest. But after frantically skimming the alleyway, he confirmed that whatever it was had gone…

"Brother…"

Shaking his head, Edward trudged ahead and muttered, "It's getting late, Al. We should probably head back to the hotel. Winry said the parts for my leg should be in by this time today. I don't want to keep her waiting…"

"O-okay," he heard Al reply behind him, his metal helmet clanking against his armor as he searched for whatever Edward had seen. But when he too had confirmed that they were the only two present, he quickly jogged up to Edward's side and the two of them began to make their way toward their temporary living arrangements.

* * *

Shrugging his shoulders up and down, Dr. Knox turned his head side to side and cracked his neck. After a long day of autopsies and reports, he was looking forward to finally heading home and getting a decent amount of piece. 'Decent' in the sense that there was still another occupant in his home. Moving his shoulders up and down at the thought, he reminded himself that it was better than having the full house he had just days before.

As he set his clipboard down on one of the stainless steel tables, he heard the door behind him open. When he turned around to see who it was, his heart instantly sank.

'General' Mustang stepped into the room and closed the door behind him, taking care to make sure it was latched properly. As he turned back to Knox, he shoved his hands into his pockets and smirked. "It's been a while, Doctor."

"What do you want," Knox hissed.

The General raised his brows in surprise, but quickly recollected himself. Shrugging his shoulders up and down, he said, "It appears you've been informed of the Colonel's predicament, seeing how quickly you jumped to the defensive. This will make things a lot easier."

"Make what easier," the doctor bristled as the General crossed the room and stopped just shy of him.

"Nothing too major," 'Mustang' replied with a fake grin. "Just a few questions, is all. Like what your involvement with Dr. Marcoh could be."

"I have no idea what you're talking about," Knox growled as he narrowed his eyes.

"Oh, don't play coy," the General replied coolly. "You know just as well as I that you two were old war buddies. And now that he's decided to resurface, it would make sense for him to find an old friend in you."

"I'm sorry to disappoint," Knox replied crossly, "But I don't have a damn clue as to where Jim might be."

"Is that so," the General mused as he raised a brow, "Because for some reason I can't get myself to believe that."

"Well, you're going to have to because I—" Feeling as if the wind had been knocked from his lungs, Knox staggered back and held his hand to his throat. Coughing and gagging, he tried desperately to suck in enough oxygen to combat the overwhelming dizziness he was suddenly struck with. But the shock to his system was too much for his body. His legs buckled beneath him and he crumbled to the ground, clawing feverishly at his neck as he continued to gasp.

Hearing the deafening sound of footsteps approaching him, he managed to look up and see 'Mustang' stroll up to him, his hands still in his pockets and a smug smile on his face. When Knox attempted to spew out a loathing slur toward the Homunculus, 'Mustang' grinned. As he pulled one of his hands out of his pockets, Knox saw that he was wearing a very distinct glove.

"I have to admit that I can't completely control Flame Alchemy yet," the Homunculus admitted as he crouched down in front of Knox, "But I've found that I'm very skilled at displacing oxygen molecules, especially if I want to draw them away from an object.

"How does it feel having the air ripped from your lungs? I'd imagine it's quite painful."

Shifting so that he could swing at the General, Knox found that his coordination was off, instead causing him to crash to the ground. He was only there for a moment, however. As stars and flashes of light danced before his eyes, he was pulled back up into a sitting positon, the front of his shirt held firmly in the General's grip.

"All I want is a small nod telling me that you'll cooperate," 'Mustang' purred dangerously. "Just a small signal and I will give you the air you need to live."

Knox narrowed his eyes and tried to focus that glare on the General's face, though his vision was fading fast. He tried once more to utter a curse, but once again found that his voice had escaped him. Instead, he opted to grip the General's arm and squeeze, hoping it would be enough to free himself.

The Homunculus chuckled darkly. "I'm surprised you're this spry. Any other man your age would be unconscious by now."

Unable to speak, Knox used the last of his strength to narrow his eyes toward the General. But just as he was about to completely black out, his final breath allowed a significant amount of oxygen to fill his lungs. Coughing and sputtering, he choked on the air that was meant to rejuvenate his body.

Just as he was about to at last take a deep breath, the oxygen was once again ripped from this lungs… this time remaining absent until the darkness overtook his vision, plunging him into a state of unconsciousness.

* * *

Pulling his gloves off, Wrath slowly tucked them back in his pockets and eyed the unmoving may lying before him. It was clear to him that Knox had valuable information regarding the other doctor's whereabouts, but it seemed that he was refusing to share that information at that very moment.

Still, he had gathered enough intel to suggest that they were on the right path to finding both the doctor and Scar. At that point it would only be a matter of time before he slipped, though it would have to be in Kimblee's presence, seeing that Wrath was just a day away from leaving Central behind.

At least, he thought, as he casually strolled out of the mortuary and toward the hospital exit, he got to finally got to practice one of Mustang's techniquse, moving him one step closer to perfecting his control over Flame Alchemy.

* * *

She felt like she was sitting and waiting for an eternity. While Wrath was out collecting information from Dr. Knox, Lust was forced to stay behind and idly fret about their meeting. It was a shame, she thought, that she couldn't see the events of their encounter unfold, because from what she deduced from Wrath's explanation of the methods he would employ, the meeting seemed like it would be quite amusing.

After musing over it for a few moments, a delighted smile playing on her lips, Lust once again fell into a state of boredom because, unfortunately, she was not there to witness it. Instead she was left sitting in complete silence, since the Lieutenant refused to be chatty that evening. Maybe it was due to the week's earlier events. After all, she had worn herself out fighting back on multiple occasions.

No longer able to sit in silence, Lust sighed and decided to prod her again. This time with a more meaningful conversation starter. "We aren't so different, you and I."

" _I am nothing like you,_ " Riza quietly growled as she nudged Lust, which in turn caused Lust to chuckle. Her weakness was laughable at that point. And because of that it would only be a matter of time…

"Is that so," she asked as she lifted a brow. "Because the more I search your psyche, the more I discover that you are a woman consumed by desire." She felt the Lieutenant stop pushing momentarily to consider what the Homunculus had said. Taking the opportunity to explain, Lust continued, "From my understanding, you have wanted so much… But you haven't gotten anything in return.

"You want change and desperately crave happiness… You desire so many things; things that seem unreachable… Untouchable.

"So you continue to clandestinely want and suffer in silence; always wanting but never receiving."

Riza feebly pushed again. _"You could not be more wrong,"_ she snapped.

"Really," Lust asked dubiously. "Because I'm in your head right now and I can assure you that I understand everything very clearly."

Before Riza could formulate a rebuttal, a sound from their left caused Lust to lose focus and turn away from their conversation.

A smile crossed the Homunculus's face as Riza took a chance and tried to push again with the distraction now in place. However, after the Lieutenant's struggle earlier that week, Lust knew that her energy had been spent. Her lack of appreciation for how they treated Fullmetal proved to ultimately be her downfall.

When her eyes landed on the one that had entered the room were seated in, her lips tugged further upward. Just the person she wanted to see…

Lust could feel the Lieutenant hesitate as she too turned her focus to 'Mustang' when he stepped into their field of vision. Want bubbled deep within her, and Lust couldn't help but be pleased. After all, desire was something impossible to hide.

When Wrath's eyes wandered over to and locked on hers, she resigned herself to the plan she had devised at that moment, allowing herself to fully appreciate the way Hawkeye's heart sped up. After all, this could prove to be a game changer when it came to controlling the Lieutenant. And even if it didn't it would still make for great fun watching the two of them squirm.

* * *

The quickened thud of her heart was dull, yet evident the moment Riza saw Roy cross into her window of perspective. No, not Roy, she had to remind herself. Wrath…

And still, she couldn't help but think about him and the possibility that he was standing on the sidelines watching her just as she was watching him.

But if he was watching her, it certainly wasn't through those eyes. Instead of the warm charcoal eyes she had come to respect and admire, she was left watching the cold and ruthless eyes of a killer, much like the eyes she had seen in Ishval. It was a wonder no one else caught on and noticed this drastic change in him, even Roy's other subordinates before they found out through Edward.

Then again, it could also be because she knew his expressions and subtle cues better than anyone… sometimes even more than the man himself.

Still, however, she knew that those were not Roy's eyes.

But then, just as his eyes caught hers, his expression softened and the warmth she had been desperately hoping for once again filled his eyes.

Long, slender arms wove themselves around her, the nails on their fingers lightly digging into her skin, causing both Riza's soul and physical body to shudder.

" _Look at him,"_ Lust purred from over her shoulder, brushing her lips over Riza's ear. " _There's the man you've been waiting to see."_

It was clear to Riza that it was Roy that was staring back, his dark eyes once again having that light within them.

" _Don't you want to say something to him? Now might be the only chance before he and the Fullmetal brat ship off to Briggs. Who knows how long their business will keep them there… It may be months for all we know…"_

 _I know what you're doing_ , Riza hissed inwardly as she averted her eyes from Roy, feeling a pool of uneasiness settle in her stomach. _And I refuse to take part in-_ Suddenly, a force slammed itself into Riza's gut; so strong, so powerful that it nearly caused her knees to buckle. Grasping her stomach, she doubled over and began to heave. "What are you doing," she gasped out loud as the feeling intensified.

" _I'm not doing anything,_ " Lust mused from within, " _I'm simply taking a backseat for a moment to allow you the chance to visit your superior officer."_

Indeed Lust had turned over control to her, Riza realized as the breaths her body took became hers once again. But this feeling… It wasn't right…

Her head snapped up to see Roy react to her voice, heading toward her in a fit of worry. She stopped him in his tracks as she dragged her fingers through her hair and hissed, "Stay back." But the moment those words left her mouth she felt as though she had been punched in the stomach. The thought of him staying away and preserving himself seemed almost unbearable.

His pause, however, was momentous as she heard him almost immediately begin to move toward her again. And oddly, it caused her heart to spring in her chest. With every step he took toward her, the feeling in her gut intensified, warming her blood and causing her to feel more alive than ever before.

When he had reached her, Riza rose to her feet to meet him. But before she could even utter a word to him, the feeling became unbearable… and she found that she could no longer ignore it.

Grabbing the lapels of his jacket, Riza thrust him against the wall and pushed her body flush with Roy's, pressing her lips forcefully against his. Reluctance and restraint were tossed to the wind and merely became momentous thoughts. Because right now the only thing that was driving her was the sensation that had slammed into her the moment that she had regained control. A sensation that her body and soul could not seem to ignore.

The nails, feeling more like pinpricks at that point, wedged themselves further into her. But if anything, they were a simple annoyance…

Even her mind seemed unable to find reason to break it, despite the underlying and infinitesimal voice of reason inside of her telling her that this was wrong. Instead, her mind could only process the softness of his lips against hers, the warm breath that escaped his mouth as his lips instinctively parted in response.

A beat after he seemingly gave in, his hands flew up to grab her wrists, to pull her grip off of his jacket. But even then his grasp was not as firm as it should have been.

As she smiled against his mouth, she couldn't help but feel that this was right, that this was so… fulfilling. It was as if the utter lack of _this_ had been the cause of the emptiness she felt whenever she looked at her superior officer… Like she had been longing for this for an eternity…

It hadn't been something she sat idly and considered before, having an attraction this strong toward her superior officer. She would admit that, as a child, she had a sort of infatuation with her father's longest staying and youngest pupil. But after he had left and after Ishval… she had forced herself to give up any feelings or pursuit of him.

She would admit that she loved Roy Mustang; there was no question in that. A love based on devotion and loyalty, stemming from the years that followed Ishval. She was his subordinate and he her superior. Her love and devotion for him was what drove her to protect him at all costs, even if it meant that her life was on the line instead of his.

She could feel the claws digging deeper, but even then her entirety was unfazed. At that moment the entire world could come crashing down and she wouldn't notice, and even if she did she would not care. At that moment, she was dominated by that want.

That desire.

That lust…

The claws sunk deeper, and the grasp on her wrists tightened to a near death-like grip. _Now_ she could feel it…

" _See,"_ a voice mused in her head. _"Isn't this so much easier? So much better to just give in to your desires?"_

 _Give in…_ she thought passively. Maybe giving in wasn't as bad as she had anticipated, because the mere thought of pulling away and breaking the moment caused her stomach to knot and twist painfully. Pushing the thought away, her mind immediately turned back to the notion of tangling her fingers through his hair, wanting to feel his warm breath on the nape of her neck…-

Then a small part of her began to understand the gravity of her actions. It was her and yet… It wasn't. She could feel Lust's presence within her, but she could not actively feel her pulling the strings on her body. Still, these actions couldn't possibly be her own… Could they?

As her mind slowly began to right itself again, she began to push back against Lust, who seemed hellbent on keeping Riza at the forefront.

The Homunculus had done something to her, causing her to act in such a manner. But whatever it was, one thing was certain: She needed to break free. Lust's prevention of her drawing back alarmed her.

She pushed again, harder this time, only to once again be met by Lust's resistance. Her battle for submissiveness grew more desperate, more unrelenting-

Suddenly she forced herself back and away from Roy. When she opened her eyes on instinct, she found that they stung and burn, her vision blurred by shades of red and black. Screwing them closed again, she tore her wrists away from the Colonel's grip and stumbled backwards, raising her hands to her eyes in an attempt to rub away whatever was causing the burning.

Almost instantly after she had completely broken contact with the Colonel, her senses fully returned and her mind began to reel.

How could she have been so blind? So unable to comprehend what Lust had done?

She had played on Riza's most muted desires, bringing them to the forefront and forcing them on her until they completely consumed her entire being. She had allowed herself to succumb… and now her body was beginning to suffer the consequences.

"Lieutenant!"

Forcing her eyes open again, she could make out the Colonel as he dropped down to his knees beside her. Before she could protest or push herself away, he cupped her face in his hands and brushed his thumbs beneath her eyes, wiping away the sticky, warm liquid that continued to spill from them.

"Sir," she gasped.

"You need to relinquish control," he clamored desperately as he continued to wipe away the wetness on her cheeks. "You can't do this!"

"Colonel," she choked out, trying to form the words necessary to communicate her apology to him. Instead, however, she found that something pooling in the back of her throat was preventing her from doing so. "I-" That's when her eyes attracted to something bright red just below eye level. When she turned her focus to it, she saw that his fingers were completely covered in a thick layer of blood.

He spoke again, but the deafening pounding in her ears drowned out his words as her heart began to race, her body at last reacting to her acute blood less.

She tried to ask him what he had said, but she halted herself as the taste of iron flooded her mouth. Realizing that it was blood, she pitched forward to prevent it from flowing back into her lungs, all the while feeling her organs condense and swell over and over again as they repeatedly healed themselves.

She had struggled with Lust before and realized then that pushing her to the point of drawing blood was effective against her. It was something she kept locked within the deepest confides of her mind, guarding it against the Homunculus whenever she probed her memories. And now that she was acting on it, it appeared that the tactic was indeed helpful.

"Stop it, Lieutenant!"

When his voice broke through the ringing in her ears, she looked up through the shroud of red that covered her eyes to see that his expression had grown more desperate.

"If you continue to fight her, you'll die," he cried as he gripped her wrists tighter. "Your body is rejecting her."

Lust was thrashing within her now, vying fiercely for control. But at that moment Riza had the upperhand. She was winning. She was killing her.

And yet Roy seemed adamant in preventing her from continuing.

That is… If that even was Roy.

She had watched through Lust's eyes how well the Homunculus was able to manipulate his body and memories to work in his favor. At some times even Riza had trouble telling the two apart. Who was to say that this wasn't just Wrath playing with her mind, twisting her thoughts around in order to benefit Lust? This toll on her body and the fact that Lust was furiously fighting back told her that it was an effective tactic.

And yet she couldn't shake the notion that this _was_ Roy telling her to stop. And if that was the case, then he knew what this self destruction would lead to…

"Please," he croaked, his voice growing weaker as his face contorted, signaling to her that Wrath was fighting against him as well. "You need to… Stop…

"Your body will die… And your soul along with it… But the Stone will still remain. Lieutenant – Riza – you need to let go… Before it's too—"

His grip on her wrists loosened and he doubled over, clutching his head in his hands as he let loose an anguished cry.

Reaching out, she put a bloodied hand on his shoulder, silently begging for him to hold on, to stay with her. But when he looked up at her, it was clear that he was close to losing the battle.

Swallowing back the bolus of blood that had pooled in the back of her throat, she at last allowed herself to slip back and away from Lust's claws… But not before mouthing "I'm sorry" to him."

Before she allowed herself to be completely overcome, Riza managed to see Roy mouth the same thing, the faintest glimpse of relief in his onyx eyes.

* * *

"You allowed him out a little too long," Lust growled as she wiped the blood from her lips with the back of her hand. "Had you pulled him back sooner, the Lieutenant would have fallen."

"His will was stronger than it had been previously," Wrath countered as he rose to his feet and wiped his hands on his pants.

Following suit, Lust got to her feet and brushed the excess blood off of her cheeks.

"I didn't realize the Lieutenant was such an aggressive woman."

Lust scoffed. "She isn't." When he raised a brow in question, she elaborated, "I had to dig deep into her subconscious to even find an iota of lust. And when I found it, it was a pathetically small feeling overshadowed by other emotions. I had to amplify it in order for her to even recognize it as her own.

"She realized it was, and yet she was still able to break away long before I could consume her completely." When Wrath shot her a look of disproval, she clicked her tongue agitatedly. "You try that stunt with Mustang and see how it works. The Colonel knows what aggravates his anger and is able to keep it under wraps. I have to dig through the Lieutenant's memories in order to find something that she wasn't immediately aware of. Using Mustang was my best bet in luring her up and out long enough to sink my claws into her."

"As long as you were able to find value in your gamble," Wrath grumbled.

"Oh," she replied with a cross expression, "I did. At the very least I was able to rein her in even more, despite the fact that she managed to shy away at the last moment. I should at least have more control over her once you're gone and while I'm babysitting those three."

Wrath chuckled. "Speaking of three, has the third found out that you'll be watching over them yet?"

For the first time since she gained control, Lust felt a smile creep across her face. "As a matter of fact, the third should be finding out at any moment now."

* * *

After staring at the chessboard for well over an hour, Eugene Grumman finally made his move. Picking up the White King, he moved it over to the empty spot just a few spaces in front of it and set it down. But before he removed his hand from it, he shook his head and picked it up again, moving it dangerously close to the Black King piece. Still, he was more satisfied with that move than the former. Leaving it in its designated spot, his hand returned to hold his chin as he stared at the board, losing himself again in deep thought.

It seemed that, no matter what he did, he always ended up in a stalemate in every single strategic game he played with himself. He wasn't sure if it was because he had grown too old and mild to strategize this way, or because of his altered emotional state. Either way he did not like it.

With a frustrated growl he reached forward and scooped up the Black King and Queen pieces and held them on his outstretched hand, angling it slightly to allow them to roll back and forth in his palm. He had received not calls from Chris since he returned to Eastern Command, leaving him tense and agitated. Eugene knew that she would eventually call, once there was movement on their part. But it had nearly been a week. He would have figured that something would have at least happened…

Hearing a knock on the door, he quickly placed the opposing pieces back onto the board and cleared his throat before calling out to the person that had disturbed him. When the door opened and revealed Eastern's second in command, Brigadier General Robert Callahan, he asked, "What can I do for you?"

"Sorry to intrude, sir," Callahan uttered as he closed the door behind him. "But I just received word regarding the situation in Central."

"Have there been any improvements to Fuhrer Bradley's health or other matters," Eugene pressed. All he had been hearing that week was about the ever declining condition of Bradley. Due to the amount of panic from the other elected Generals, it was decided that there would be a vote amongst them to determine who would step up temporarily… or permanently. Not wanting anything to do with the notion, he had elected to remove himself from the polling and bidding.

"Actually, sir," Callahan began uneasily, "There has been some news. We just received word that the Fuhrer's condition has become terminal. He's… not expected to make it."

Leaning back in his chair, Grumman softened his expression and uttered, "It's unfortunate to hear that, Brigadier General. I had hoped the news would have been better."

"Oh, that isn't all though, sir," Callahan reported as he straightened himself and clasped his hands behind his back. "They've also elected the General that would transition and take the Fuhrer's role in this time of peril."

Eugene furrowed his brows and narrowed his eyes, taking care to notice the small glean of excitement in the Brigadier General's voice. Then, without prompting, Callahan raised his hand and gave Grumman a crisp salute. "I am pleased to be in the presence of His Excellency, Fuhrer-Elect Eugene Grumman."

* * *

"I'm sure he'll be pleased, especially knowing that it will be _you_ who will advise for him," Wrath replied with a hint of amusement.

"Oh, I'm sure he will be," Lust replied with a smile. "As will I. After all, it feels like it's been ages since I've spent quality time with my grandfather."

* * *

 **A/N:** _Okay, NEXT time Roy and Ed will wander up to Briggs, and everyone will officially be separated. I'll have more of Fu and Lan Fan in that chapter as well, in the form of flashbacks and present time._

 _Again, let me know what you think about chapter lengths! I feel like they're getting longer and longer and I don't want to wear people's eyes out. If they're okay let me know! Otherwise I can try to truncate them and, hopefully, post more frequently..._

 _Thank you again for the reviews, favorites, and follows! You are all so incredible! It truly means a lot..._


	10. Chapter 10

"Don't forget to oil them constantly."

"I know…"

"Although it's lighter than your previous models, it's also not as strong; hence the reason I've given you a shin guard. Be sure you don't forget that."

"Right…"

As Winry slowly rattled off what else he needed to know about his new automail for the third time, Edward numbly looked up at her and watched her continue to tinker with his arm. He could see her stress written all over her face, her brow creased a little too harshly for the mundane process of tightening the screws of his automail. He could hear it in her words; her replies just as hollow as his.

He could feel it emulating off of her, mixing with and adding to his…

"Ed…"

Edward blinked a few times and looked back up at her, seeing that she had finished her work and was now watching him. When he caught her sad blue eyes with his, his stomach twisted in knots. "Yeah," he replied a little more weakly than he had intended to.

"You'll be okay, won't you?"

"Of course," he replied as he forced a smile.

Seemingly not convinced, she said, "It's just… You're going up there with him alone. I'll have Alphonse and that girl named May here. But you won't have anyone."

"Not entirely," he gently argued back. "Officer Falman will be up there to give tabs on me, and Teacher and her group will be in the area in case something happens."

"Yeah, she'll be in the area, but she won't be right there if something does happen," she protested as she set her tool down and took his steel hand between her own, looking down at it as she pretended to test the dexterity of his fingers. "And if something does happen… I don't know what we'll do."

"Hey," he muttered as he pushed himself upward, taking care not to yank his hand out of her grasp. "You know that I can handle myself if push comes to shove. And besides," he added as she looked up at him, "Even though he isn't exactly there, Mustang won't let anything happen to me. They need Alphonse and me for something, and even though we don't know what it is, they won't do anything to us."

"How can you be sure? How do you know that this isn't the last part of their plan?"

Edward opened his mouth to respond but then promptly shut it. He couldn't be one hundred percent sure that this wasn't the last step of whatever they were planning. "I guess I don't know," he admitted. "All I can do is trust the General's word that we'll be free to go once I get back."

"I don't trust anything they say," she replied as she looked down at his hand and began to fiddle with it again. "And it might sound stupid," she added, "But they've made me trust the military even less than I had before.

"Miss Riza was the one that gave me a shred of confidence for the military. But now that she's gone, I… I just don't think I can trust anyone now."

"That's not true," he replied in an attempt to convince her otherwise. "She's still in there and fighting. She would never let anything happen to you. And General- er, Fuhrer- Grumman will be in Central from now on.

"They'll probably keep him under close surveillance, but he and Christmas seem to know ways of getting around military bugs. If something happens, they'll get you out of there."

"I guess," she replied as her voice faltered. "It's just terrifying because that isn't Miss Riza and that isn't Colonel Mustang. To me they're unpredictable… and I don't know how I should act knowing that about them."

"I know what you mean," he replied empathetically. "And I know it's hard. But as long as we comply and allow them to maintain their facades, then they have no reason to break their promises.

"I know it isn't ideal, but right now we can't do anything else. Not with the Colonel and Lieutenant's lives at stake."

"I know," she replied half-heartedly as she looked up at him again. After mulling over what she was going to say next, she opened her mouth but then promptly shut it again and averted her eyes from him, earning a curious look from Edward. Winry shook her head. "Nevermind. It's nothing…"

Edward furrowed his brows. "What is it?" When she didn't immediately answer, he added, "This might be the last time for a while that we'll be able to talk, Winry. So if you have something on your mind, you can tell me."

"I don't know if I should," she replied softly. "I don't think if you'll like it."

Now more interested than before, Edward leaned forward and managed to catch her gaze. "Winry, please," he contended. "You know that you can trust me with anything."

"I know," she muttered as he dropped his metal hand and raised hers to her head, pressing it against her forehead as she squeezed her eyes closed. She took a deep breath and then slowly exhaled while she ran her fingers through her hair. When she opened her eyes and looked back at him, she admitted, "I just… Edward, what if they kill Miss Riza or Colonel Mustang without us knowing? What if they do break their promises? You're going to be hundreds of miles away, and Alphonse and I… I just don't think we'd see it coming."

That _was_ a hard pill to swallow. It was a notion that they would have to keep in the back of their minds.

"Or," she continued quietly, "What if they can't be saved? And all of this will be for nothing?"

Edward sighed and dipped his head in acknowledgement. "You have every right to think that way, Winry. But honestly… I can't allow myself to think that way. Because if I do," he continued as he looked down at and clenched his steel and flesh fists, "Then I may not give myself the opportunity to explore every option.

"I have to hang onto that shred of hope the General gave me in regards to saving them. If he had enough gall to mention it, then it must have some shred of truth to it."

Winry smiled, but Ed could tell it was forced. It seemed that even she was losing her positive outlook on the matter. Edward bit and chewed his lip a little, feeling himself begin to crack. Then, without allowing himself to have another negative thought, he curled his automail fingers around her hand and looked down at it. Giving it a gentle squeeze, he said, "I know that things don't look good, Winry. Hell, there have been a few moments where I began to doubt it.

"But still," he continued as he began to absently run his metallic thumb repeatedly over the back of her hand, "I can't give up, not with their lives on the line. You know them as the Colonel and Lieutenant that took me and Alphonse away, and while you aren't wrong, there is so much more to them now.

"They've done everything to help us get our bodies back, even stretching their necks out in some instances. And because of that I just… I need to make sure I explore every option before giving up."

With a sigh he pulled his hand away from hers and continued, "So I understand that you're scared; I am too. And because of that, I can also understand if you want to back out. Just let me know if that's what you want to do and I'll figure something else out."

"Ed, no," Winry quietly admonished him as she shook her head. "I'm not going to run away… Not with everything that's at stake." When Edward opened his mouth in rebuttal, she shook her head and said, "I want to protect the people I love too… And that includes the Colonel and Miss Riza."

Edward hesitated and studied her expression, still able to see the unease in her eyes. "Winry," he began again, "I don't want you going through with this if you don't feel comfortable with it."

She shook her head again. "I don't think I'll ever be completely comfortable with it, Ed. But," she continued as she looked him in the eye, "None of us will be. So we need to make the best of it and keep moving forward, just like you always say."

Edward swallowed hard. "Winry…-"

The clanking of a familiar suit of armor cut Edward off. "Brother…" Both Edward and Winry turned toward Alphonse to find him standing in the doorway. "If we don't leave now, we're going to be late."

"Okay, Al. Thanks," Edward replied with a faint smile as he grabbed his shirt and tossed it back on. Standing up from the table, he offered Winry a hand and helped her to her feet. As she gathered her supplies into her toolkit, Edward gathered the rest of his maintenance gear and tossed it into his bag. After tucking his winter jacket under his arm and going over a mental list of items he might need last minute, he turned back to the pair to see them standing at attention.

He saw Alphonse's eyes wander down to his jacket, and Edward's stomach twisted in knots. He couldn't remember the last time he and Al were separated for long periods of time. Even when he went on missions with Mustang and his team, Edward was always back within a few days. But now he was uncertain how long he would be gone.

Trying his best to put his younger brother at ease, Edward shrugged his shoulders and shot him a small smile. "Alright then… Let's get going," he said, watching Al's eyes flicker uneasily before he returned the statement with a half-hearted nod of his metallic head.

Turning back toward Winry, he tried to catch her eye in order to address her again. Instead she kept her focus forward, her eyes hardened and determined. For a moment he feared that she was upset with him. But just as he was about to reach out and touch her shoulder, she turned toward him and gave him a reassuring smile, causing his heart to leap in his chest. All of that worry, all of that stress, seemed to have disappeared, instead being replaced by a newfound confidence. "I'm ready," she said confidently as she looked him in the eye, "Let's go."

* * *

A heavy blanket of gloom set in over the trio as they slowly made their way toward the station, the imaginary force weighing them down with every step they took. It would normally have been an optimal time to discuss their next steps, but the uncertainty of what was to come held them back…

"Are you departing now?"

The trio jumped slightly turned toward the voice and found Fu and Lan Fan emerge from the shadows. Edward looked between the two of them, noting that the only things they carried with them were small burlap sacks that had been strapped to their backs.

"Yeah," he muttered in reply, earning a sympathetic nod from the older man.

Winry took a step forward, her eyes scanning down to the empty sleeve of Lan Fan's lack jacket. Looking up at the other girl's face, she asked, "Are you sure you won't stay? I have everything I would need to build you an arm here."

As Lan Fan opened her mouth to respond, Fu took a step forward and shook his head. "We appreciate your offer, Miss, but it is one we cannot accept. Your proximity to the Homunculi would put her in even more danger, or at the very least prevent her from healing correctly. If we want to recover the young prince and your friends, we will need all of the able bodies we can gather."

"I understand," Edward replied as he looked from Fu to Lan Fan, seeing that the latter had subconsciously gripped at her empty coat sleeve as she looked down at the ground. After keeping his eyes on her for a few moments longer before turning his focus back to Fu, he added, "In terms of able-bodied allies…"

"I know," the older man responded with a firm nod. "I will discuss the situation with our friend in Xing."

"Thank you," Edward answered with a faint smile. "The more aces up our sleeve, the better."

"Yes," Fu agreed. "And on the topic of 'aces;' has your teacher and company departed already?"

Edward nodded. "Yeah, they left yesterday. They should be up near the old town of Baschool by the end of today."

"Excellent," he muttered in approval. "It seems that the pieces are beginning to fall into place."

The smile slipped from Edward's face at the thought of the 'pieces' coming together. So much was riding on their cautious, calculated movements that if something were to go wrong, there was no telling what could happen. Trying to hide his uncertainty, he replied with a sharp nod and a "yes."

"In that case," the older man said as he bowed slightly, "We will leave the three of you in good health, and assume that we will return to you in the same condition."

The trio returned the gesture, bowing at their waists as a sign of both respect and dismissal.

Lan Fan, however, hesitated; her dark eyes fixated on Edward. He pressed his lips together in a thin line and suppressed a full out frown. He could see the hesitance in her eyes.

Then, after a few moments of mulling over her own thoughts, she bent at the waist and dipped her head. When she returned to her normal standing position, she looked over each member of the trio before her eyes ultimately fell on Edward. "Please do what you can for my Prince until we return," she requested, her eyes never wavering from Edward's.

At last he replied, "I will," to supply her with some relief. She responded with a firm nod and bowed once again. "Then we will leave you three just as my grandfather said and will return to you the same way. May your travels be safe and without obstacle. And again… thank you."

Edward dipped his head in understanding and watched as the two Xingese guards leapt onto the roof of the nearest building, vanishing moments later.

"Well," Edward muttered as he tore his eyes away from the spot he last saw them, "We'd better get going again. Don't want to be late." When he turned back to Winry and Alphonse, he looked between the two of them and said, "But let's make a promise right here. A promise to fulfill their desire to see us together in one piece." Holding out his automail hand, he curled it into a fist and said, "Do you guys promise?"

Alphonse silently nodded and held his fist in the center of the circle. But when Winry hesitated Edward looked up at her. She shook her head dismissively and quickly added her fist to the circle. "I promise," she said as her expression hardened.

"Alright," Edward said at last after tapping his fist against theirs. "It's a promise then. All three of us, back together in one piece… Soon."

* * *

After scanning the crowd that milled around the platform they were to depart from, Edward at last spotted two Amestrian uniforms standing at its center. Swallowing his nerves, Edward took the lead and led Alphonse and Winry over to them, stopping just short of the pair.

"We're here, just like you asked," he announced as they turned around to face them.

"And on time too," 'Mustang' replied as he glanced down at his wristwatch. "I'm impressed."

"You would be on time too if you were put on such a short leash," Edward grumbled back.

Ignoring the comment, the General shoved his hands into his pocket and looked away from them. "No Izumi Curtis," 'Mustang' observed after a few moments as his dark eyes scanned the train station.

"Yeah," Edward mumbled. When the Homunculus's eyes wandered back to him, he added, "So you can stop looking for her."

"Why don't I believe you," the General replied bluntly.

"Because you don't know me well enough," Edward responded. "Trust me. She's long gone."

'Mustang' folded his arms over his chest. "What would happen if I decided to investigate," he asked as he raised a brow. "Decided to send someone to check and make sure she was where she belonged?"

Edward felt a lump form in his throat, but chose not to swallow it back. He couldn't show any hint or sign of hesitance or uncertainty, not without arousing suspicion from the two of them. "Well," he began as his eyes wandered over to Lust, the most likely 'investigator' he would send, "If you went to their home in Dublith, you'd probably find them carving meat for their butchering business. It gets hectic when they aren't there for a few days, so they're bound to be behind on their orders."

He looked back at the General and held his glare, refusing to back down from his partial truth. While Teacher had left, it was decided that Sig would remain behind and return to Dublith in order to maintain the illusion that they both really had left Central. The situation was less than ideal for Izumi, who believed that her husband should remain behind to keep a distant eye on Alphonse and Winry, but she ultimately gave in and compromised when Edward had suggested the possibility of someone 'checking in on them.' And now that the situation was staring him in the face, he was glad that it had occurred to him.

Edward felt Alphonse's soul-fire eyes fixed on the back of his head. He knew that _he_ could keep up the illusion of confidence, but whether or not Alphonse could would be the deciding factor. Despite the fact his younger brother was incapable of producing facial expressions, his words and gestures were what ultimately gave him away.

And unfortunately, Mustang knew this too…

Edward allowed himself to swallow back the bolus in the back of his throat as the General's eyes scanned over to Alphonse.

"Is this true, Alphonse?"

Edward braced himself, preparing himself for a long pause or falter in his tone. Instead, however, he heard his younger brother confidently answer, "Yes, General," allowing Edward to relax slightly.

"Well, that does save you the trouble of having to check up on them, right Lieutenant," 'Mustang' asked with a smirk as he glanced over his shoulder and toward Lust.

"It does," she replied with a faux smile. "Especially since these next few weeks will be so busy, what with all of the changes that will be occurring at Central Command. And besides," she continued as lavender eyes scoured over to Alphonse and Winry, "I have these two in my care. Uprooting them from all of the tasks they'll be working on would be unfair to them."

Edward tried his best to suppress the feelings of disgust that had begun to rise within him, but was ultimately unable to as he felt his face twist with revulsion. Her feigned compassion was appalling. Even the way she inflected her words was dismissive.

Still, he had to put on a brave face. Show them that he wasn't afraid. Because in doing so, he might be able to rally Alphonse and Winry as well…

The shriek of the train's whistle startled Edward and caused him to jump, bringing him back to reality. Glancing over his shoulder and toward the train, 'Mustang' announced, "It looks like our train is just about ready to go." Turning back to Edward, a faint smile crossed his lips. "Are you ready to go?"

Edward gripped the handle of his bag tighter, suddenly feeling reluctant about going with the supposed General. Reminding himself what was at stake, he pushed his feelings down and took a step forward. "I'm ready," he confirmed.

"Excellent," the General replied as he bent over and grabbed his suitcase. "Then let's go and secure one of our two compartments."

"Two," Edward echoed.

"Another General will be accompanying us," 'Mustang' elaborated. "General Raven, to be precise. He has more experience with northern affairs and has graciously volunteered to come as a segue between Central and Briggs."

"I see," Edward mumbled as his eyes wandered over to the train. "I didn't realize that."

"You'll get the opportunity to meet him once we're on the train," 'Mustang' added hurriedly as he looked down at his pocket watch again. "Which we should be getting on momentarily." As if on cue, the train's whistle shrieked again.

Pushing back the uneasiness that had begun to settle in his gut, Edward turned back to his brother and Winry. I'll talk to you later, Al," he murmured as he tapped his fist against his brother's armor.

"I'll talk to you later, Brother," Alphonse replied softly. "Be sure to bring back some of that northern snow for me."

Edward managed a small smile. "I'll give it a try." When Alphonse nodded in reply, he turned to Winry. Forcing himself to smile larger, he reached out and rested his flesh hand on her head. "Don't overwork yourself, automail freak. Remember to take a few breaks now and then."

A small smile crept across Winry's face. "I will, Ed. Only if you promise to keep up with your maintenance. I don't want to have to come up there to fix it for you."

"Alright, alright," Edward replied with feigned annoyance. "I will," he added as he pulled his hand away and took a step back.

Lust took the chance to step forward to stand beside Winry and place a hand on her shoulder. With an impish grin, she looked Ed in the eye and said, "No need to worry, Edward. I'll make sure they feel right at home."

Edward bristled when he saw her hand on Winry's shoulder. No doubt seeing his, her smile broadened, a twinkle of amusement in her eyes. But after receiving a pointed glance from the General, she drew away and dropped her hand at her side.

'Mustang' nodded toward the train. "Our car is the one nearest us. I'll meet you inside."

Ed began to reluctantly move in its direction, dragging his bag behind him on the ground. After taking a few steps, he looked over his shoulder to see the General and Lieutenant hastily throw the other a quick salute before dropping their hands and averting their eyes. When the General turned away from them and spied Edward, he quickly turned away and stepped up to the train.

Edward gripped the handrail and was about to hop onto the train, but paused with his foot on the step. Turning to look over his shoulder, his eyes wandered over to the trio before finally settling on the tallest of the three. His expression hardened as he caught Al's soul-fire eyes. They held each other's focus for a few moments before Alphonse broke the connection by nodding, signaling to Ed that he understood.

Protect themselves. No matter what.

Edward dipped his head to relay that he too understood and turned away, climbing into the train car and stepping to the side to let the General pass him.

'Mustang' followed him in and shot Edward a knowing look before brushing past him and walking toward the front of the locomotive. Just before he got to the cabin nearest the front of the train, the door to the one before it opened and out stepped a man with a salt-and-pepper beard and olive skin. The man smiled and dipped his head. "Welcome aboard, Brigadier General."

"Thank you, sir," 'Mustang' replied with a crisp salute. "And thank you for securing the two cabins," he added as he nodded toward the seats behind them, occupied by men dressed in Amestrian uniforms.

"Of course, of course," the General replied cheerfully. "After all, security has to be tight. What with the Flame Alchemist _and_ Fullmetal Alchemist onboard. Which leads me to say," he continued as he looked past 'Mustang' and toward Edward, "'Hello.'"

"Hey," Edward replied mildly as he took the General's hand. "It's nice to meet you."

"Nice to finally meet you too," the older man beamed. "I've heard a lot about you and your brother."

Edward tensed, his mind immediately going to the taboo, wondering how much 'Mustang' told him.

Seemingly seeing his tension, the man chuckled and said, "You two are quite the researchers for General Mustang, aren't you? Always traveling and wandering the country. It must be difficult being gone from home for so long."

Relaxing slightly, Edward's lip twitched and he nodded as he let go of the General's hand. "Yeah, it is. But it's also nice getting to see the rest of the country and its alchemists."

"I bet it is," Raven replied loudly over the train's whistle. Drawing back, he nodded toward the two of them and said, "Well, looks like it's time to take our seats. We've got a long journey ahead of us."

Edward dipped his head and eased his way past the two Generals, making his way toward the front of the train car. Opening the door of the private cabin they had reserved, he honed in on and slid into a spot nearest the window, looking out in time to see Winry and Alphonse wave as the train came to life beneath his feet.

He raised a hand in farewell, watching them begin to move from his line of sight as the train pulled away from the platform. When they had disappeared, 'Mustang' stepped into the cabin and took a seat across from Edward. After watching 'Mustang' study him out of the corner of his eye, the older man at last said, "I hope you brought enough for reading. It's going to be a long ride."

"Don't worry," Edward replied bluntly as he pulled a book out from his bag and opened it on his lap, eyes scanning down to it to avoid looking at the Homunculus, "I did."

* * *

"Right on time," Lust murmured as a train pulled up to the platform behind the three of them, moments after Edward and General Mustang left in theirs.

"Who else are we meeting," Winry asked cautiously as she gripped her day bag tighter.

"Central Command's special guest," came the Homunculus's reply as she took a step forward and toward the train car.

The trio stood in a mist of awkward silence as they watched the train's passengers pile out of the train car. But after a few minutes of watching, and after the flow of passengers tapered off, it was clear the person Lust was waiting for hadn't gotten off.

Just as she made a move toward the train car, a final passenger stepped out and onto the platform. Recognizing the man, Alphonse rushed forward and took his suitcase as he set it down.

General Grumman's eyes were instantly drawn to Lust, however. His expression soured as she and Winry approached them. "Had I known that you would be the one to greet me here, I would have walked," Grumman stated bluntly.

"Now, we couldn't have that," Lust replied as she shook her head. "We need our Fuhrer-elect to remain safe."

"Then why did they send you," he shot back.

She brushed off the question and gestured for them to follow, which they all reluctantly did. "Hello, General," Alphonse quipped as Grumman fell into step beside him.

"Hello, my boy," the older man replied languidly. Looking over at Winry, he added, "You must be Miss Winry Rockbell."

"I am," she replied with a small nod. "It's a pleasure to meet you, General."

Grumman gave her a faint smile and turned away from her, narrowing his eyes toward their guide. It was incredible, Alphonse thought as they stepped over to the car that was parked outside of the station, that the General was so quick to turn against who had appeared to be his granddaughter. But then again, he reasoned as he opened the door and invited Winry to slide in before him, after seeing her display and their descriptions, it wouldn't be too difficult to hate her. Still, it hurt to think that what relationship they had built since finding each other was destroyed in a matter of moments.

When all of them were settled into Hawkeye's car, Lust started it and shifted it into gear. "So General Grumman," she began as she turned away from the station, "How does it feel being the Fuhrer-elect?"

Alphonse could see the General purse his lips from the front seat, turning toward the window to look out the window.

Lust frowned but chose to not prod him further. Instead, she decided to turn her attention toward Alphonse and Winry in the backseat. "I hope you don't mind, Winry," she said as violet eyes peered at them through the rearview mirror, "But most of our active servicemen with automail are currently stationed elsewhere. Hopefully we'll have someone for you to work on within the next few days or so."

"That's fine," Winry replied meekly. "I'll do whatever you want me to, Miss—I mean, Lieutenant Hawkeye."

"Riza is fine," Lust responded as her eyes wandered over to Winry.

"Okay, Lieutenant," Winry replied as she looked out the window, moving herself closer to the car door and curling into herself.

Alphonse saw Lust twitch agitatedly but quickly followed suit with Winry, opting to look out the window before she could target him with any of her questions.

The rest of the short ride to Central was silent, with the sound of the car's engine or an occasional cough being the only noises they heard. Once they stopped in front of Central, they were quick to get out of the car and away from the gloomy cloud that hung over them. But before they could relish their freedom, Lust cleared her throat and beckoned for them to follow after her and up the steps of Central Command.

Leading them inside, she navigated the halls of the command center as easily as Lieutenant Hawkeye had, saluting passing soldiers when appropriate and muttering greetings to others that were of similar rank or lower. A tightness formed in the belly of his suit, almost tangible enough that he could have convinced himself that his stomach was really there. It pained him to think this, but he couldn't help it.

It was almost like having Lieutenant Hawkeye back…

He nearly ran into her, however, when she stopped outside a small office. Stepping back so she could push the door open, Lust motioned for them to step inside. When they did, they found themselves face-to-face with two soldiers: one with dark skin and cornrows in his black hair, and the other taller and paler.

"This is Lieutenant Jerso," Lieutenant Hawkeye explained, gesturing to the shorter, darker man. "And this," she continued as she pointed out the taller, spiky haired man beside the former, "Is Lieutenant Zampano.

"They have been assigned to escort the two of you during your time here."

 _So they're babysitting us_ , Alphonse thought as he looked from one man to the next.

"For now I would like the two of you to get acquainted with them while I accompany General Grumman to his first meeting with the other Generals."

"Alright," Alphonse replied for the two of them as he cast a glance toward Winry to see that she was watching the two men warily. "It'll be nice getting to know them better. Especially since we'll probably be spending a lot of time with them."

"Indeed," she said as she nodded toward the two men, signaling them to take a seat in one of the room's chairs. When they obeyed, she turned back to face Alphonse and Winry. "We should be back shortly. Take this time to acquaint yourselves."

Alphonse and Winry slowly nodded in reply and watched as she ushered a rather reluctant General Grumman out of the room. When she had closed the door shut behind them, Alphonse slowly took a step forward, raised his gloved hand, and managed to squeak, "Hi. I'm Alphonse Elric…"

* * *

"Where are we going," Grumman asked warily as she fell into step beside him.

"The Fuhrer's office," she replied matter-of-factly. "We need to prepare it for when you take power."

"There won't be any need," Grumman muttered. "Because as soon as I meet with the other Generals, I am going to renounce my temporary position as Fuhrer."

"Oh," she replied. "And what makes you think they'll accept your rejection?"

"Because they should respect this old man's right to refuse such a position," he mumbled as she guided him down another hallway.

"I'm sure they respect that decision," she replied. "However, their decisions were unanimous and, unfortunately, there were no other candidates for the role."

"What," he gasped as he jerked around to face her.

"That's right," she replied with a light grin. "Their decisions were entirely unanimous. They only saw you as fit to take over the role."

"That's… impossible," he replied in disbelief. From the list of Generals that immediately came to mind, there were at least three he had strained relations with. To have _all_ of them vote for him was as he had uttered… Impossible.

"Don't be so surprised," she responded, interrupting his thoughts. "After all, you're the only one capable of handling the job. The most strategic of the Generals, as well as the most calculative."

The General pursed his lips, unconvinced by her words. It didn't add up. There was not a single person that held the role of General that would have gained every single vote. Unless… "They're all working for you, aren't they," he uttered as he looked away and down toward the floor. "Everyone in power here in Central… They're nothing but your pawns."

"'Pawns' has such a negative connotation associated with it," the Homunculus hummed. "They chose to follow us of their own free wills. Well, most of them anyways."

"And those who don't…?"

"They learn to cooperate," she replied with a sinister smile. "And eventually bow to our whims, just as you will."

"So that's why I'm in this position," he realized. "So that you can keep an eye on me, keep me close and under your thumbs."

"There's the strategist we all know and respect," she replied as she stopped outside the doors of the Fuhrer's office.

Grumman swallowed the lump in his throat and walked stiffly into the room as she pulled the door open for him. He did not stop, however, choosing to slowly wander toward the Fuhrer's desk. His hand went down to his waist, his fingers brushing over the gun that sat in his holster. He slowed his pace as he got to the center of the office, stopping on top of the Amestrian military emblem embroidered onto the floor. When he heard the soft click of the door closing behind him, he took his chance and gripped the gun. Drawing it from its holster, he whirled and around and clicked off the safety, raising it to eye level.

The Homunculus stopped in her tracks, eyes wide with surprise. She recovered quickly, however, and smirked. "You're finally decided to fight back, hmm?"

His finger found the trigger and he snarled, "What makes you think I never was?"

"True," she admitted as she took a step toward him. "You and Christmas did manage to unite Mustang's ragtag team, and you were even able to secure a few allies outside of them. While it _is_ impressive, it was something that was to be expected from an elite strategist such as yourself."

When she took another step toward him, he growled, "Then you should know what a strategist would do when given an opportunity like this."

"Of course," she replied as she continued to advance toward him. "An elite strategist looks for every opportunity handed to them as long as it advances them in the game. And right now you have the perfect opportunity to eliminate a key piece."

"Indeed," he said unwaveringly. "I have. The Queen, to be precise."

"I'm flattered," she said as she stopped just short of him, her eyes never leaving his gun. "I had assumed the title was stripped from me."

"I wouldn't be too flattered," Grumman replied flatly. "The title has a variety of meanings to it, and you do not hold the title the same way Riza did. The way I see it, you are one of the most powerful pieces we are currently facing. The moment you leave the board, the assignment will either be eliminated or reassigned."

"Ah, going with the literal chess definition then. Well," Lust taunted, "How do you go about removing me?" Nodding toward the gun, she observed, "Execution-style, perhaps?"

"Yes," he answered. "And if I wasn't the one to do it, then one of the men that came looking for my assistance would have done so."

"So you gave the order then," she asked as her eyes narrowed and that loathful smirk reappeared on her face. "How cruel."

He stifled a bitter laugh. "The only cruel one here is you, Homunculus. Taking my granddaughter and Colonel Mustang hostage and manipulating them is far crueler than me ending your reign of terror."

"So sacrificing your last of kin in order to take me off the board is far more important than saving her?"

"You know just as well as I that she would prefer death than remain imprisoned while you use her appearance for your gain."

"Would she," she asked as she folded her arms and raised her brows.

"You know she would," Grumman growled as he steadied his hand again. "Edward and Alphonse Elric confirmed what she said. Both she and Colonel Mustang wish it."

She exhaled and nonchalantly moved her shoulders up and down. "Very well then. If that is what you believe, then by all means try. And should you succeed, you will erase her and at last return your life to the way it once was."

"What are you getting at," he demanded warily. "How would killing my granddaughter give me anything in return?"

"It's really nothing too difficult to figure out," she said with a smile. "By 'returning your life to what it once was,' I mean that you are being given the opportunity to rid yourself of her once again. After all, you chose to remain nonexistent for most of her life, essentially ridding her from yours in the process."

"I did it to protect her," Grumman spat as his grip on the gun tightened.

The Homunculus laughed. "Really? To protect her? Then by all means enlighten me. Because the way she saw it, you neglected to make your presence known when she needed you most."

"My records paint a different picture," he countered as she took a step toward him. "She was raised almost solely by her father. The Colonel and a few other sources cited him as an unusual, erratic man, but he nonetheless ensured that she was well cared for and received a proper education. We may not have seen eye-to-eye, but she was his _daughter_."

She seemed taken aback by his response. "And you think that the fact she didn't die or her 'proper education' paint the entire picture?" When he furrowed his brow, she elaborated, "Did your 'records' tell you that she was afraid of her father? Did they tell you about the emotional abuse she endured? The nights she cried herself to sleep from the pain of what he inflicted upon her? Or about how he branded her like an _animal_?" Now seeing that he was vastly overwhelmed, she slowly continued her advancement, her words tinged with more and more bitterness with every revelation she revealed.

"Did they mention the helplessness she felt when her only lifeline left her to join the military, the one entity her father despised? Or the fear of not being able to survive after her horrendous father died?"

"You're… you're lying," he sputtered as he took a step back.

She quirked a brow. "You honestly think I'd be lying after all of the time I've spent inside her head?" When Grumman clenched his jaw and did not immediately respond, she shook her head in disbelief. "Your lack of understanding is appalling, _Grandfather_."

"That's enough," he snapped as he backed into the Fuhrer's desk, the Homunculus stopping just short of his weapon. "Don't come a step closer! And don't you _dare_ address me that way!"

"Why," she asked with a twisted grin. "Is it because you finally realize that you did nothing to protect your only granddaughter? Or is it because you've begun to understand your own failures? Both as a strategist and a grandfather?"

Grumman's finger moved down to the trigger of his gun. But just as he began to depress it, his hand locked up and he froze, fixated by the woman that stared back… The woman that resembled his daughter so much.

He had always asserted that she was a near carbon copy of her mother: the same long, blonde hair, always worn up to keep it from falling into her face; the same jawline he always had teased mirrored his in his younger days; and the same large, brown eyes that both his daughter and late wife had.

Even as he told himself that the person standing before him wasn't his granddaughter, the General couldn't help but notice the striking features he had always attributed to his late daughter. All of those features… except for one.

Instead of seeing those beautiful brown eyes she received from her mother and mother's mother, he was faced with cold, ruthless violet eyes. Eyes with pupils sharply slitted and more reminiscent of a serpent's than of a human being's.

Just as his finger pressed against the resistance of the trigger, her silky smooth voice, so unlike Riza's and yet so like it, permeated the air around his ears.

"What's the matter, _Grandfather_? Are you having second thoughts?"

"I…" He began to protest, "I…"

He had promised himself that, when faced with this situation, he would have no second thoughts. But hearing his granddaughter's voice calling his name…

Before he could even comprehend what was happening, his grip on the gun loosened, and the object slipped from his hand, clattering harmlessly to the ground. His knees followed suit immediately after as they buckled beneath him, causing him to crumple helplessly to the ground.

Through the tears that had begun to well up in his eyes, he saw the toe of her boot kick the gun away from his reach. "Pathetic," Lust sneered as she stepped away from him and sauntered around the Fuhrer's desk to a tea table beside the wall. "You humans are sad and weak, foolish creatures; allowing your emotions to get the best of you at the worst possible moment."

Grumman squeezed his eyes shut and clenched his trembling fists, silently damning himself for falling apart in front of it.

She returned and crouched down in front of him, raising a cup that was filled to the brim with steaming tea beneath his nose. When he jerked his head away and refused it, she frowned. "You'll have to suck it up quickly, Grandfather. The other Generals will be in shortly to further discuss your role in the coming days."

"I refuse," he growled as he looked up at her.

"Unfortunately that isn't an option," she replied harshly as she thrust it toward him again. "Just as we discussed beforehand, you are here for a very specific reason." When he slowly reached up to grasp the handle of the tea cup, she added, "Should you cooperate, I may even let you speak to your granddaughter again."

At that he looked up at her, searching her expression for the truth he had heard in her words. Seeing that she had his attention, she smiled. "And," she suggested, "Should you muster up the courage, you will already be here to end her yourself.

"So really, it's a win-win situation for you, _Fuhrer Grumman_."

Reaching behind him, he clumsily set the still full tea cup on the desk behind him and placed a hand on it to stabilize himself. He felt her arm snake around his and for once he decided not to fight it, instead allowing her to help him rise to his feet.

"See," she purred as she returned his cup of tea to him, "Was that so hard?"

He chose not to answer as he raised the trembling cup to his lips, silently hoping she had spiked it while he had been incapacitated.

* * *

With a hollow sigh, Wrath slammed the book in his lap closed, silently hoping he wouldn't have to refer to the notes again for a long while. The concept of alchemy bored him; the subject failing to capture his attention entirely. The only thing that motivated him to flip to the next page was the promise that Mustang's mind would absorb it like a sponge. For the time being, though, he had had enough of it.

Wrath turned his attention back to Mustang, seeing that he had withdrawn into the deepest corner of his subconscious. Frowning to himself, he looked up at Edward Elric to see that the boy too had removed himself, keeping his eyes locked on the alchemy book in his lap. Not feeling particular chatty with the young boy, Wrath crossed his arms and focused his attention back on Mustang.

Leaning back in his seat, he brought forth his most recent memory of Riza Hawkeye, or rather, her body. The Colonel instantly recoiled and pressed further away from Wrath as his soul quivered. Smirking inwardly, Wrath mused, _**"I wonder what she's doing this very moment… Maybe sitting down for some peppermint tea? Or perhaps readying herself for bed after such an eventful day?"**_

" _How would I know,"_ Mustang responded bitterly. _"After all, that is not my Lieutenant."_

" _ **But you've idly wondered it before,"**_ Wrath pointed out. _**"And even now your mind has begun to wander back to her."**_ Outwardly, he took a deep, full breath and then quietly exhaled through his nose. Closing his eyes, he inwardly taunted, _**"I can almost smell the chamomile tea she makes for herself after waking up from a nightmare about Ishval—"**_

" _Is there a point to your rhetoric,"_ Mustang hissed.

Wrath smirked. _**"Just trying to get in your head, Colonel."**_

" _Like you haven't already,"_ came his reply before he drew away again.

But by that point the damage was done. Mustang's mind had already begun to slowly stray toward his beloved Lieutenant and her current status. Worry and stress began to cloud Wrath's mind as memories of Riza Hawkeye began to slowly trickle in. Memories ranging from their youngest of days to their more recent, with bits of the intimate moment they shared beneath Central and their goodbyes at the train station sprinkled about.

After a while, however, his chest began to ache. With a frustrated huff, Wrath reached up and clutched his jacket, twisting a handful of it in his fist.

It had happened before at the train station and he had managed to keep it at bay then. But it seemed that the greater the distance between them was, the more anxious Mustang became. _**"Separation anxiety, really,"**_ he scoffed inwardly toward the Colonel. Mustang refused to answer, putting a feeble mental wall between the two of them.

He was about to poke more when he registered a familiar voice.

"Lust."

Recognizing the name and the tone, Wrath looked up to see Edward's hardened golden eyes locked on him.

Seeing that he had his attention, Edward continued, "Gluttony. Envy. Greed. Each of those relate to the Seven Deadly Sins, right?"

Wrath quirked a brow and smirked. "Perceptive. Indeed, they are."

Golden eyes narrowed. "So, which one are you? To my knowledge there are only three left, and I highly doubt that you're Sloth, given your ambitions."

"If I told you that," Wrath replied as he leaned his elbow against the windowsill and rested his chin on his hand, "Then what would be the fun in it?"

"Well, I need something to call you," the teen replied bluntly.

"'General Mustang' is perfectly acceptable," Wrath replied coolly as he leaned back and draped his arms over the back of the train bench. "Or, if you'd prefer, 'the Hero of Ishval' or 'Flame Alchemist' will suffice."

"How about 'leech,'" Edward replied coldly. "Because you didn't earn any of those titles."

"Let's stick with 'General' why don't we," Wrath responded agitatedly. "For appearance purposes."

Edward scoffed and leaned against the window. "It would be more unusual for me to refer to you by rank, seeing that I rarely gave his the time of day."

"Then 'Mustang' as you had been calling him will suffice," he bit back as he settled back in his seat.

Edward huffed and sat back in his chair as well, closing his eyes and crossing his arms over his chest.

No longer in the mood to pick at Edward or Mustang, Wrath followed suit and leaned against his window, turning his attention to the darkening northern sky.

* * *

Edward had no desire to confront the Homunculus again, especially since he foresaw more time on the train. However, something urged him to ask the question he had long been mulling over. "Answer me this," he muttered as he placed his elbow on the windowsill and rested his chin on his balled up fist, locking his eyes on the Homunculus's reflection, "How do you know so much about the Colonel and the Lieutenant?"

The General grinned mischievously. "It isn't hard doing research, Fullmetal. You of all people should know that."

"It isn't about research," Edward mumbled in reply as he narrowed his eyes. "Some of the things you've mentioned haven't been recorded in their files. So how is it that you knew about Mustang's aunt and the Lieutenant's relation to General Grumman? They weren't willing to share the information with their friends before, and they certainly wouldn't want to share it with you."

'Mustang' shrugged. "When you're inside someone's head for long enough, you begin to learn a thing or two about them."

"So it's true," Edward asked as he turned toward and fixed his hardened glare on the General. "You're inside their minds."

The General raised a brow. "When did I ever say anything about that?"

Edward scoffed, "You said that you're inside their heads, which leads me to believe that you're inside their minds too. You know too much about them for it to be a coincidence or 'good research.'"

"Impressive," the General replied as he folded his arms and smirked.

"But it's more than that," Edward continued as he grimaced. "It's so much more…

"The way you talk about them and the way they're fighting back… It makes me think that it's more than you trying to get inside their heads." Gesturing to the Homunculus, he said, "You're essentially a Philosopher's Stone with thousands of souls locked inside of you. Your entirety is based on these souls. And now that you're dwelling in the bodies of two people with souls, you're more than eager to snatch them up and make them part of you."

The General's face darkened, and Edward knew that he hit the mark. Removing his arm from the windowsill, he laced his fingers together and bowed forward, resting his elbows on his knees. Still keeping his gaze locked on 'Mustang,' he said, "I hit the mark, didn't I? The best way for you to get inside their heads is to consume their souls; to make them a part of you. I can see it in your eyes, 'General.' I've got you two figured out.

"So now my question is, what are you planning to do with them?"

The Homunculus sat back in his chair and clenched his fists, loosened his grip, and then clenched them again. Finally, he shook his head and chuckled. "That shouldn't be your top concern, Fullmetal. Right now you should focus on the task at hand, which is to complete this mission and eventually retrieve your bodies."

"Well, I'm making it a top concern," Edward replied hardly.

"The Colonel and Lieutenant will be around for a while longer," the General stated.

"How much longer," Edward pushed.

"I've given you more than enough, Fullmetal," 'Mustang' replied with a tinge of hostility in his tone. "Accept that as your answer for the time being."

Edward pressed his lips together and glared at the Homunculus, hating the smug expression that began to form on his face the longer he stared it down. Before he could rebuttal, however, the door to their cabin opened and General Raven stepped inside. Flashing the two of them a faux smile before ultimately allowing his eyes to fall on 'Mustang,' he announced, "We will be arriving soon, General Mustang. Before we do, I'd like to share a few words with you."

"Of course, General Raven," he replied as he got to his feet and straightened his uniform. "I'd be more than happy to discuss the details with you in your train car."

Raven nodded in approval before turning to Edward. "We'll be back shortly, Major Elric. In the meantime, why don't you get your belongings together so that the transition from the train to the car is relatively short. After all," he said with a more genuine smile, "It's freezing up there."

Unimpressed by his display, Edward muttered, "Alright," as he leaned forward and grabbed his bag out from beneath his chair, opening it to slip his books and notes inside.

When the two left without another word, he hurried zipped his bag back up and shoved it onto the seat next to him, slumping down in his chair with an agitated huff.

So it _was_ true. The Homunculi were absorbing the Colonel and Lieutenant's souls, integrating them into their Stones while stealing their memories. He should have been relieved that he had figured it out, had figured _them_ out. But at that moment he wasn't, because his worst suspicions were confirmed. Wrath and Lust now knew as much about everyone as Mustang and the Lieutenant knew. Every secret or story shared with them was now as easily accessible to the Homunculi as a library book was. And now that they were separated from each other and forced to work alongside the Homunculi, there was no telling what would be used against them.

As his thoughts lingered back to Alphonse and Winry and their security, Edward languidly moved his head to the side and peered out the window, noticing for the first time that it had begun to snow…

* * *

Just as Raven had said, the northern air was harshly cold, quick to stab at Edward's automail despite having been fitted with winterized gear by Winry before leaving. He was the first to clamber into the car, quickly followed by 'Mustang' and Raven, both of whom sat on either side of him in the backseat. In the seats in front of them were two soldiers with hardened expressions that muttered simple greetings toward them, which were returned with equally enthusiastic salutations by the two Generals.

Edward pulled his limbs closer and kept his eyes locked on the front windshield, watching as the soldier that was driving drove them down a series of winding, icy roads as the snow continued to fall faster and faster.

After what felt like hours, Edward at last saw a large form looming through the darkness and the snow. Squinting, he leaned forward and tried to make out how large the fortress was when the car came to a sudden halt. He pitched forward but managed to himself before he rocketed into the front seat.

The two men in the front seemed unfazed by his action, instead focusing on the guard that had stepped out from the post they had stopped next to. After exchanging a few quick words with him, the man returned to his hut and signaled the for the fortress to open its doors.

A loud groan caught Edward's attention and forced him to look back through the windshield again. He watched as two massive steel doors creaked open to allow the car access to the interior of the fort. His eyes widened as the inside of the fort slowly opened up to them, revealing the hustle and bustle of its inside. As the car crept into it, Edward looked back and forth to try and take in the scene before them. The instant the massive steel doors of Fort Briggs slammed behind them, however, the car doors on both sides of their car opened and uniformed men appeared to usher them out. Edward slid out after Mustang, his eyes instantly drawn to the massive interior of the fortress.

Countless soldiers adorned with coveralls continued to mill around them and the car, continuing their duties as if they did not realize that a monster that had just stepped into their domain. All around he could see them on top of cranes and vehicles, whether they were moving large cargo boxes or shoveling coal into the beds of trucks to fuel the engines that were hard at work on the opposite side of the loading bay.

Feeling something brush past him, Edward was brought back to his senses in time to see 'Mustang' turn around and eye him critically, his stare demanding that Edward follow. Clenching his jaw, he followed a few steps behind the two Generals, keeping his hands in his pockets as he continued to take in the sights.

After they left the bump and grind of the compound behind them and maneuvered down countless hallways, the group was eventually led to a room that housed a massive conference table. And at the end of it sat a uniformed woman with long blonde hair and steely blue eyes, flanked on either side by two additional men in uniform; one with a mohawk that bore a scowl and stood so tall that Edward could have mistaken him for a bear, while the other was shorter with dark skin and stark white hair, his eyes hidden behind perfectly round spectacles.

When they had all entered the room, General Raven strolled over to the woman and smiled as he extended his hand and said, "Hello, General Armstrong. Thank you for hosting us."

"My pleasure," she replied, unenthused as she rose to her feet and tightly gripped his hand, squeezing it harder than the General had expected. When she released it, he pulled his hand away and tried to discreetly massage it as he chuckled and said, "You still have a grip that could rival your brother's."

Upon hearing the comparison to her brother, she curled her lips back and focused her attention on 'Mustang' as he too stepped forward and extended his hand toward her. "It's been a while, hasn't it, General?"

"Trying to compensate for something, Mustang," she replied as she brushed his question off, her eyes instead wandering down to the saber that was hanging on his hip.

When he saw that she wasn't going to return his handshake, he dropped his hand and smiled. "Nothing at all. Just taking advantage of the privileges of being a General."

She clicked her tongue and scowled as she turned away and toward Edward. "And who is this," she asked as her icy blue eyes wandered over to Edward.

"This," 'Mustang' announced as he clapped a hand on Edward's shoulder, causing him to tense, "Is Edward Elric, better known as the Fullmetal Alchemist."

Clearly unimpressed, the female General raised a brow and replied, "You thought it best to bring a child to Amestris's most active military base?"

Trying to replicate Mustang's signature charm, the Homunculus replied, "I know it may not seem like it, Major General, but Edward is a very important member of my team. He is a very skilled alchemist and may prove helpful during our time here."

"Which I hope isn't long," she replied in rebuttal, "Because alchemist or not, you still brought a child into an operating fortress."

Edward bit his tongue and decided not to reply, instead nodding warily as he eyed the General and 'Mustang,' the tension between them increasing with every passing moment.

"We shouldn't be too long," 'Mustang' replied as he raised his hands. "If anything, it'll be about a week at most."

Hearing that, Edward relaxed. Just one week was all he had to endure. If that ended up being the case, he, Alphonse, and Winry would be free after that.

"Inspections normally take a few days," she replied hardly. "I do not see the point of an entire week."

"True," 'Mustang' replied amicably. "But there are also matters in Central we must convene on."

"I see," she replied as she folded her arms again and scowled. "Waiting it out up here until the Fuhrer kicks the bucket, then?"

'Mustang' shook his head, "Not at all. Though that is the topic of many of our discussions."

She scoffed and pursed her lips, and then turned to the smaller of her two guards and said, "Take the boy to the barracks while we discuss the rest of their itinerary."

"Yes, sir," he replied with a crisp salute. He walked over to Edward and took his bag from his hand and headed toward the door without another word.

Turning away from Mustang's glower, Edward quickly followed after the man and out into the hallway. When he fell into step just behind him, the man said, "You must be hungry, having traveled from Central." Before Edward could respond, the continued, "We will have someone drop off a plate of food for you to your room.

"You are to not leave your dormitory under any circumstances unless called for by the General or anyone under her direct order, understood?"

"… Yeah," he replied grimly as the man stopped outside a door and pulled a set of keys out of his pocket. After flipping through them, he chose one and stuck it into the lock and turned, the door clicking in response as the key unlocked it. He pushed the door open and stepped to the side to allow Edward to walk inside.

It was a small room with a twin-sized bed and a bedside table, and aside from the small porthole window on the wall beyond it, there wasn't much else to the room.

"That door right there," the soldier added as he nodded to it, "Behind it is a small restroom.

"If there is anything else you need, just let the corpsman that brings you the food to let Major Miles know."

"Thank you," Edward said as he turned back toward him, "But what—" He was cut off by the sound of the door closing behind him and the jingle of keys as they rattled and knocked against the door.

He had locked him in…

Telling himself he could alchemize it if need be, Edward tossed his bag onto the floor and sank down onto the bed, sprawling out over it with his legs hanging off the edge. Staring up at the steel ceiling, his mind immediately wandered to his brother and Winry, wondering how the two of them had fared their first day without him there as his eyelids began to grow heavy…

* * *

" _I'm impressed," 'Mustang' said as he stepped forward from the darkness and clapped his hands together. "You've actually followed orders for once."_

 _Edward clenched his fists. "Well when your brother and best friend are held captive, you tend to become more compliant._

" _Now," he said as he raised his steel hand palm up and curled his fingers toward himself, "Let us all go. We've done what you wanted."_

' _The General quirked a brow. "I never said you were done, Fullmetal."_

" _What are you talking about," Edward growled. "You said that once we were done at Briggs, you'd let us go. You promised!"_

" _I did," 'Mustang' replied, "But sometimes even the best of people can't keep their promises."_

" _What're you—" he stopped, however, when he heard the sound of footsteps approaching them. He turned toward them and his stomach plummeted._

 _Lust was sauntering toward them, one hand crossed her her body and the other twirling a larg,e metal object around by a purple string that was attached to it. When she got closer, however, he recognized the object._

 _Alphonse's helmet…_

 _Seeing that she had his attention, she let go of it and allowed it to bounce and roll toward him until it stopped in front of him, its hollow black eyes looking up at Edward._

" _A-Alphonse," he choked out as he dropped to his knees and grabbed the helmet in his hands. He never wandered around without it. Never. Trying to control his breathing, he looked up at her for some form of explanation, but found himself at a loss for words when he saw her face. Small, red flecks dotted her cheeks and uniform in a pattern strikingly similar to…_

" _Where's Winry," he snapped as he hugged Alphonse's helmet to his body. "Where is she?!"_

 _Lust raised a brow and smiled. "You mean that little girl from Resembool? I haven't the slightest clue."_

" _Liar," he spat as he lunged forward. "Where are they?! What did you do? Both of you!?" Before he could reach her, a force slammed into him, thrusting him up against a wall._

" _Is that any way to treat Lieutenant Hawkeye," 'Mustang' mused as his grip on Edward tightened._

" _She isn't the Lieutenant! Just like you aren't Mustang," he spat as he clawed at the General's hands and struggled against his grip._

" _Soon enough we will be," the General replied amusedly._

 _Trembling with anger, he pushed against 'Mustang's grip again and snarled, "You'll never get the chance. You won't. We'll end you before then—" A blow to his stomach caused him to double over, gasping and heaving for breath. Before he could catch it, his head was tilted upward and he found himself peering into the Homunculus's eyes: one iris as black as coal and the other in the form of a red Ouroboros._

" _It won't work," 'Mustang' answered with a twisted grin. "You'll never get them back.—"_

* * *

Something had him.

Feeling a pressure on his shoulder, Edward twisted and writhed in an attempt to roll away from it. When he swung at it, it grabbed his arm and forced it down onto his bed, forcing Edward's eyes open… and forcing him to stare into the cold black eyes of a monstrous man the size of a bear.

Before he could utter a word, the mohawked man yanked him up from the bed and tucked him under his arm, swiftly turning out of the small dorm room and into the darkened hallways of the Briggs fortress.

When Edward at last gained the ability to speak, he began to mutter, "Where are we—" but was cut off when the man grunted and quickened his pace, effortlessly weaving through the hallways as they descended deeper and deeper into the catacombs of Fort Briggs.

When they had at last made it to a small, unassuming door, the man thrust it open and stepped inside. Edward blinked a few times, trying to process what and who he was seeing.

One one side of what appeared to be a steel throne was the same man he had seen before: Major Miles, if Edward remembered correctly. On the other side was a familiar face: Warrant Officer Falman.

And between them was the lady General from before, her sword drawn and its tip pushed into the ground with her hands pressed against the tip of its hilt. Seeing that they had arrived, she looked up at them from beneath her long blonde fringe and said, "Welcome, Fullmetal Alchemist. I've called you here so you could tell me everything you know about the imposter wearing Roy Mustang's flesh."

* * *

 **A/N:** _Sorry for the wait! I hope the extra length of this chapter makes up for it! So now we are at Briggs. This is the second arc of the story, and I've actually decided to name it "Hellfire," with the first arc being "Hellbound" and the third being "Hellbent." This is the arc that will have most of the action and will feature most, if not all, of the characters. Next chapter look out for a lot of Fort Briggs and some Central and Eastern Command teams._

 _I have the next 4-5 chapters completely plotted out, so hopefully I will be finished with the next one sooner! For now, though, I have finished the next chapter of "Engraved" and will post that in a few days to a week, and will be working on other updates too!_

 _Again, thank you so much for the favorites, follows, and reviews! It truly means a lot! And if you see any OOCness or issues, please don't hesitate to let me know!_


	11. Chapter 11

Feeling his lids grow heavier, Eugene Grumman rested his face in his hands and propped his elbows on his desk, promising himself that he would only rest for a few moments.

Once he had tidied himself up after the incident with the Homunculus, he had the misfortune of meeting with the Generals situated in Central that were, as he suspected, less than enthused about his promotion to Acting-Fuhrer. After that the day had gone by like a blur, filled with paperwork and escorts to different locations for more meetings and paperwork.

With a sigh, he looked up at the clock on the wall through his fingertips, seeing that it was ten 'o clock at night. He vaguely remembered it reading 9:30 when he was finally allowed to settle into the hotel room they had secured for him… alone on the top floor of the building. It seemed that they either feared for his safety or, most likely, wanted to keep him as isolated as possible.

Pushing his chair back from the desk, he stood and purposefully strode over to the door of the room. When he opened it, his heart sank.

A uniformed guard, who had been standing with his back against the wall, immediately turned around and saluted him. "Good evening, sir. Is there something you need?"

Grumman fought the urge to slam the door in his face and isolate himself again, now knowing that even leaving his room would be impossible. Instead, though, he shot the man a faint smile and said, "No thank you, soldier. I was just looking for some fresh air."

The young soldier nodded with understanding. "If you would like, General, I could open the windows for you in your room."

"Oh no, no," Grumman replied as he shook his head. "That won't be necessary, my boy. Though I may not look it, this General still has a little strength left in his arms." As the soldier nodded, Grumman dipped his head and said, "That will be all then. I appreciate your help."

"Of course, sir," the soldier replied with a salute. "If there is anything you need, we'll be right out here for you."

Doing his best to suppress a frown, Grumman nodded and muttered, "Thank you," as he stepped back and closed the door. Taking a few steps back from it, his shoulders sagged and he sighed, reaching up and pressing his fingers against his temple to try and massage away the headache that had begun to form.

" _You humans are sad and weak, foolish creatures…"_

Shaking his head back and forth he pushed her words away, refusing to let them enter his mind again. After all, they would only make him even more anxious for the coming day…

Swallowing the lump that had begun to form in his throat, he decided that a bout of fresh air would do him some good. Stepping over to the window, he pushed it open and leaned against the ledge, poking his head outside as he took a deep breath of fresh air. But despite that, the day's events slowly leaked back into his mind, reminding him that he had failed on his resolve… no matter how much it had pained him. Closing his eyes, he exhaled through his nose and accepted those thoughts, knowing that no matter how hard he tried, he would never be able to unsee what had truly become of his granddaughter…

Feeling something touch his hand, his eyes snapped open and he instinctively pulled his hand away, letting out a sharp gasp. Looking down, he saw a small black and white creature sitting on the window ledge, its large black eyes just as wide and surprised looking as his likely were. Just as he was about to take a step back, it got down on its four feet. That's when he noticed that it had something tied around it.

Grumman opened his mouth but then closed it again, unsure of what to think about the tiny creature.

When it seemed to recover from its shock, it cocked its head and sauntered forward, turning around so that whatever was tied to its back was facing Grumman.

"Is this for me," he whispered as he cautiously reached forward and tugged on the ribbon that held the piece of paper against the creature's back. When it came loose, he gently removed it from its back and unfolded it.

 _Trust the cat— MC._

Grumman pursed his lips and looked down at the note, scrutinizing every small stroke and letter, giving the utmost attention to each detail. After skimming it over again and again, he concluded that it was indeed Chris's handwriting, due in part to the way she curled her 'M.' So if that were the case, he noted as he looked up from the note and toward the small creature, then she had a messenger.

The small black-and-white 'cat' looked back with an equal fascination, its large black eyes wide and curious.

"Are you here to take a message from me," he whispered.

The creature blinked one, twice before bobbing its head up and down and leaping off of the windowsill and onto the hotel room's desk. As he followed it over to the desk, it grabbed a pen and toddled over to a notepad and dropped the writing instrument onto the paper.

Grumman paused with his hand on the back of the desk's chair and took one last look around his room to make sure that the door and window were clear of any prying eyes. When he confirmed that they were, he hurriedly seated himself and picked the pen up. Looking at the creature, he murmured, "What should I write?"

The 'cat' blinked a few times, almost appearing to move its shoulders up and down to signify that it did not know.

He chewed his lip for a moment, contemplating what he could possibly say. He knew that it should be concise, but there were so many thoughts raging inside of his head that he nearly found it impossible to sort out which ones held the most value. Although he knew with the utmost certainty that what happened between that… monster and him that day would remain confidential until he was able to see Chris face-to-face.

Unwilling to allow that encounter to cloud his mind, he pushed it into the back of his consciousness and refocused on the task at hand. Leaning over the pad of paper, he lifted his pen once more and began to scribble out a message concise enough to fit on the small amount of paper he allowed himself while also keeping it vague enough so that if it were intercepted, its meaning would be lost.

Once he had finished, he held it up and scrutinized his code for a few moments, looking for any possible errors or suggestions that could ultimately lead back to him. When he didn't find any and decided that it was satisfactory, he turned back to the 'cat' and said, "Are you taking his back to the Madame for me?"

The 'cat' moved its head up and down.

Unable to suppress a small smile, he held up the string again. Understanding what he wanted, the 'cat' turned around and got on all fours again and allowed him to secure the paper to its back. Once it was firmly in place, he patted its head.

Taking this as a sign that it was dismissed, the creature got up onto its two back feet and began to hobble back over toward the windowsill.

Remembering that he had a few snacks lying around, Grumman grabbed the small box of bush nuts that were sitting closest to him and began to open the box. "Wait just a moment, little one," he quietly commanded as the 'cat' turned around. "I have a little something for you for the road."

Curious about what it was, it sauntered over as he pulled out a small handful and held them out for it. It sniffed them for a few moments and then, deciding that they were edible, it quickly grabbed them and shoved them into its cheeks.

Delighted that it had accepted his small gesture, he patted it on the head again and murmured, "Thank you."

The creature, its cheeks filled to capacity, moved its head up and down before turning away and bounding back onto the windowsill.

He watched as it paused to look around for a few moments before scurrying off and onto the rain gutter that ran below the window. Rising to his feet, he hurried over to poke his head outside again, just in time to see it skitter around the corner and disappear.

His heart, having swollen slightly from an encounter with an ally, suddenly began to feel heavy again, already missing its presence. With a sigh, he shook his head and closed the window again and wandered back over to the desk, sinking back down into his chair.

Because while the thought that they _did_ have allies was comforting, it still didn't change the fact that they seemed to have more foes than friends…

* * *

Peeking through the backdoor of the small establishment she had started to become familiar with, May Chang tentatively looked around for signs of anyone other than the person she was told to see was within the vicinity. Seeing that the room was empty, she quietly slipped inside and closed the door behind her, taking care to make sure she made no noise while she crept toward the one room she saw that had a light on.

Slowly pushing the door open, she peered inside. Recognizing the occupant, she tapped on the door in order to make her presence known. When the person turned around, she slid inside and closed the door behind her and bowed at the waist. "I've brought you a note from General Grumman, ma'am."

The stoutly woman appeared surprised. As May held the piece of paper out to her, she took it and said, "That was fast."

"My friend was the one that retrieved it," May explained. "She was able to get in and out before anyone noticed. We were just lucky that the General had opened a window."

"I see," Madame Christmas replied as she unfolded the coded message and looked down at it.

May waited for a few moments, watching as the Madame's eyes scanned over the piece of paper.

When she finished, the Madame tore it into tiny pieces and threw it into the garbage bin beside the office's bookshelf and said, "Thank you for delivering it. It sounds like he's doing about as well as he can be."

"Of course," May replied with another bow. "I'm glad to have been of some help to you."

"We appreciate it," Madame Christmas murmured as she turned away from May to fish something out from behind a book on one of the shelves. "Especially since you have no real ties here."

"That's not entirely true," May replied crossly. "I can't go anywhere. Not until I obtain immortality to take back home to my country. This situation we're involved in has gotten me as close to a Philosopher's Stone as I've ever been, and I won't give that up.

"And besides, my other companion is still in the north. It wouldn't feel right to leave without a proper goodbye."

"You mean the one they call Scar," the Madame inquired as she began to rummage around on the shelf below the one she had been searching before.

"Yes, ma'am," May confirmed. "He has helped me just as often as, if not more, than I have."

"I see," the Madame muttered as she knitted her brows together.

Remembering what he had been accused of, especially regarding State Alchemists, May took a step back in the conversation and segued back to her original point, "But most importantly, I need to retrieve a Philosopher's Stone before I go."

The Madame let out a quiet, mirthless laugh. "I'll tell you what, kid. If we remove whatever decided to possess my nephew and his Lieutenant, you are welcome to have it."

May furrowed her brows. "'If,' ma'am?"

When the Madame had seemingly found what she was looking for, she pulled her hand out from behind the books and produced a small box. Turning toward May, she opened it and lifted out a piece of paper. Stepping over to her desk to set it down, she sighed and said, "We have to remain as realistic as we can be. I don't know enough about alchemy, and although I admire what those two boys are doing, I just don't know if they have the capability of undoing what has already been done."

"'Those two boys'? Meaning the Elric brothers?" When the Madame took out a cigarette and nodded, May tilted her head slightly. "I've heard that they are skilled alchemists, but I admit that I'm surprised you've put so much faith in them to begin with, especially since they're just a little older than I am."

"Well," the Madame said as she gestured to May, "You have a particular set of skills you've developed over a long period of time, and from what I understand you are very well-versed in them. It's similar with those two boys as well. Though they don't look it, they're probably our best hope in this situation."

Despite trying her best to hold back the look of discontent, May couldn't help but frown slightly. All of their faith was riding on those two boys; a small, anger-fueled teenage boy and his 'younger brother,' who had happened to be a suit of armor.

When the Madame chuckled, May felt her cheeks redden. "I apologize," she said, "I know what you mean about admiring their skills, especially since I'm putting mine to use for something that is important as well.

"I guess it's just difficult to see since from I don't really know them."

A rare smile found itself crossing the Madame's face as she stepped around her desk and sank into her chair. "Trust me, I had the same thoughts when I first saw them, kid.

"On first glance Fullmetal, the older one, appears to be a bit short-tempered and a bit of a maverick; always rushing into trouble or taking risks without a second thought. And the younger one, Alphonse, appears to be the polar opposite of his older brother; a little soft spoken and maybe a bit unsure of himself. But once you get to know them you find that they're a little more than what meets the eye."

"It seems like you know them really well," May observed.

"Actually," Madame Christmas admitted, "I've only met them a handful of times. So while I've been able to make some observations for myself, I've understood them the most through the eyes of my nephew." May tensed as a touch of sadness crossed the Madame's face. "He was always one to see the best in others.

"It's funny too; the day he recruited that boy he came here and paced back and forth in this office," she continued as she gestured to the carpet that separated the two of them. "Said that he had never seen such determination in a child's eyes before."

May watched as the Madame's gaze grew distant, like she had transported herself back to that very day when the General had gone to speak to her about the Elric brothers. It was at that moment that May realized just how strong a bond it had been between aunt and nephew. Because at first glance one would not assume there could be a bond as different theirs: a woman running an underground operation the military would almost certainly look down upon, and a man that seemed married to his job as he quickly rose to the highest tiers of military command. It hardly seemed to fit at all.

… And yet, here they were. Two members of a broken family that were somehow brought together to form their own unique little family.

"Your nephew is a good person, isn't he?" Breaking out of her self-induced trance, the Madame looked up at her warily. Backpedaling slightly, May added, "It seems like he really cares about those two boys. At least from what you've said."

The corner of Christmas's lips twitched upward into a sad smile. "Yeah, he was."

Unsure of what she could possibly say next, May carefully folded her hands in front of her and looked down. The man that Xiao Mei had gotten the second note from was in the same position as the Madame. From what she understood they _had_ been good people. But without knowing them, she knew that any words of comfort she could possibly say would have little credibility.

"Why don't you get going. It's getting late."

Looking up, she saw that the Madame had picked her phone's receiver up from its cradle, holding it up as if she were about to press it to her ear.

"Thank you. I will," May replied as she dipped her head. "I will return around this time tomorrow to repeat the process." When the Madame hummed in reply, May slowly turned around and began to head toward the door again. But just as she was about to push it open, the woman behind her cleared her throat.

"You're staying with Knox, right," the Madame asked as May looked over her shoulder and back toward her.

"That's right," May confirmed.

The corner of the Madame's lip moved upward. "Be sure to take care of him, alright?"

"I will," May replied with a firm nod.

Madame Christmas dipped her head. "Then in that case I'll see you tomorrow."

May gave her a small smile. "I'll see you then." Pushing the door open, she edged her way out and closed it behind her. But just as she was about to take a step away, a faint sound caught her off guard. Tensing, her eyes darted around to try and locate the source.

When it happened a second time, she localized it behind her and through the door. A sound so subdued that if she had moved a second sooner, she probably wouldn't have heard it.

She felt her heart sink when she recognized it, but she knew that it wasn't her place to turn back. Before her own emotions could be overcome by its contagiousness, May lightly pressed on and away from the unmistakable sound of weeping.

* * *

Those words had been the final straw.

" _How, I wonder, will he meet you there knowing that you can't even stumble…?"_

To the rest of the room's occupants that night, those words seemed insignificant and almost meaningless, as if no one had heard or cared. But to him they were the most critical and vociferous thing the Homunculus had said. They had bored themselves into his brain, planting themselves there to fester and finally burst at a moment where he felt most vulnerable.

And at that moment he found himself there… Sitting in the center of his family's drug store, surrounded by a pile of boxes. In hindsight he had been lucky, avoiding the heavy boxes when they tumbled down around him after a chain reaction he caused by bumping them with his chair. But in the aftermath he found himself trapped in the center of them, unable to move them or maneuver around them.

"… _Knowing that you can't even stumble…?"_

Gripping his legs, he dug his nails deeper and deeper into his flesh until he could bury them no further.

Nothing. Not a tingle. Not a single sensation.

Nothing.

He had been right. The monster that now bore his former commanding officer's face and voice had been right. He couldn't feel. Couldn't walk.

 _Jean…_

Couldn't stumble an _inch_ if he had wanted to.

 _Jean._

And now he was useless. So useless, in fact, that they hadn't even made a move to contain him further. After all, what threat did a man in his condition pose to the Homunculi or the military?

"Jean?"

Startled by the voice, he looked up to find Rebecca kneeling in front of him, one hand on his knee and the other on his cheek.

Seeing that she had at last had his attention, she dragged her thumb beneath his eye, pushing a spot of wetness away that he hadn't realized was there. "Jean, what happened?"

He swallowed. "Sorry, Becks," he said, failing to keep his voice even. "I had a bit of an accident. Knocked over a lot of the new shipment and couldn't lift them."

Rebecca didn't look convinced. "There's something else," she replied firmly.

He made a noise that sounded like a cross between a laugh and sigh. "That's just it. I can't lift them. I can't walk. I can't stumble. I can't do anything!" He pulled away from her and shook his head. "I can't even move my legs an inch without having to lift and move them myself!"

"Jean," she began, "I know that…-"

"That's the thing," he snapped defensively, "You _don't_ know. How could you if you've never been in this position?" When she flinched he realized the severity of his words. Backtracking, he said, "Look, Becks. I'm sorry. I–"

"No," she said as she shook her head. "You're right. I don't know, Jean. I don't know what it feels like to be in your position. But damn it," she continued as her voice faltered, "I know what it's like to watch someone you love go through it. I know what it feels like to watch them struggle with the fact that their lives are completely different. And I know the pain and hurt it's caused them, thinking that they're weak and friable.

"But," she continued as she gripped his hands and held them between hers, "I know that you're far from brittle, Jean. I've always known you as the strongest, most capable man I have ever met, and I'll be damned if you still aren't."

Feeling his face soften, he sighed and said, "All I've ever been is a liegeman, someone who gets down and does the dirty work. If I don't have my legs, what do I have, Rebecca?"

She gave him a pointed look. "Besides your legs? Jean, you aren't your legs. You're more than that and a sharpshooter. You," she said as she gave his hands a squeeze, "Are smart and capable. Loyal and hard-working. You have been holding me together while our worlds crumble, and if you don't think that that's worthwhile or something you don't have, then I'm sorry to have to break it to you.

"Hell," she continued as she gestured to the rest of the store, "You singlehandedly figured out a way to sock it to them when they think they've got us on our knees. And if that doesn't say something, I don't know what else can."

Feeling a chuckle build in his throat, Jean pulled one of his hands away from her and wiped his brow, dragging it down his face and over the stubble he had begun to grow. Resting his chin in his palm, he leaned his elbow against the chair's arm and said, "You really know how to turn self-deprecation around, don't you?"

"Of course I do," she replied with feigned annoyance. "Someone has to keep you in check… Or at least be around to break your arms and _really_ show you what being useless is."

"That won't be necessary," he responded, the corner of his lip twitching upward. "I heard you loud and clear."

"Good," she said as she let go of his other hand and rose to her feet. "Now, let's get to work and start making a few calls."

Almost immediately after she finished her sentence, the phone rang and they both froze. It was well past closing time for the store and they weren't expecting any calls… Well, maybe from one person. When it rang a second time, Jean looked up at her and whispered, "It might be her…"

Furrowing her brows, Rebecca nodded and turned away from him, gliding over to the phone and picking it up on its fourth ring. Pressing the receiver to her ear, she murmured, "Hello? Havoc General Store. We're currently closed, but—"

Her eyes widened a second later as she turned her full attention to the individual on the other end of the line. Turning away from Jean, she leaned against the counter and pressed her fist against her mouth as she listened to their every word.

Jean leaned forward in his chair and strained to listen.

"Okay," Rebecca at last murmured as she nodded. "Thank you for letting us know." And with that she set the receiver back on its cradle, ending her call.

When she turned around to face him again, Jean could see that whatever she had just heard hadn't necessarily been the best of news.

"What did she say," he asked quietly when she wandered over to him and knelt down, pushing one of the boxes that had impeded him before out of the way.

She moved her shoulders up and down. "Honestly… Not much. I guess they met someone that can move messages amongst them without detection. They attempted communicating tonight for the first time and the General basically said that he was doing alright."

Jean frowned. "You mean he didn't mention—"

"No," she said as she shook her head. "He didn't say anything about Riza or Colonel Mustang."

He knitted his brows together and muttered, "I wonder what that means…"

"I don't know," she admitted. "But I'm guessing that it's either because nothing happened or because something big did and he wasn't able to write it all out."

Jean slowly nodded. "I hope that it's the former."

The corners of her lips turning upward into a forced smile, Rebecca replied, "Yeah… Me too."

* * *

Grabbing the hilt of her blade, General Armstrong raised and pointed the tip toward Edward. "Now tell me, child; where is the real Roy Mustang?"

Edward pursed his lips and remained silent, eyeing the female General warily. Although she did not seem keen on meeting with General Raven and Mustang, he felt he couldn't trust her… Not yet. After all, the Homunculi's roots seemed to stretch deeper into the military's infrastructure than he had previously thought. It was as if everything he had encountered or experienced while in the military were lies.

Beside Mustang's team and General Grumman, Edward was convinced he couldn't trust anyone else…

His eyes slowly slid over to Officer Falman to see he bore any expression that would dictate whether or not this General could be trusted. However, he was stone-faced; something Edward had, unfortunately, grown accustomed to seeing.

When his eyes wandered back to the General, Edward saw that her glare had become more intense. "Well," she demanded.

But if she really was left in the dark in regards to the military's secrets, would Edward be able to tell her about what he had come to know? With Al and Winry's lives, and the lives of Mustang and Hawkeye, in the balance, he was hesitant to let on that he knew anything at all. Because who was to say he wouldn't face repercussions if he _did_ tell General Armstrong about the Homunculi? If Al and Winry were involved, then he would do everything in his power to assure that they remained safe, even if that meant lying to the General about what he knew.

"I don't know what you're talking about," he replied cautiously.

The General's eyes narrowed. "You're lying," she retorted as she folded her arms across her chest. "Now tell me what you know."

Feeling himself break into a cold sweat, Edward did his best to try and dissuade the General. "There isn't anything I 'know.' There's nothing different about Col-er, General Mustang. He's the same as he always was since I began serving beneath him three years ago."

"Bullshit," she quipped, causing Edward to flinch. "If that were the Mustang I had the misfortune of knowing, then our conversation earlier would have gone in an entirely different direction. Not to mention the fact that both you _and_ your former colleague are scared shitless of him," she added as her icy blue stare bore deeper into him.

Edward swallowed the lump in his throat as his eyes wandered back over to Falman. The soldier stood stiffly at the General's side, refusing to make direct eye contact with him.

Edward clenched his fists and tightened his jaw as he slowly looked back at the General, who was then tapping her toe impatiently against the cement floor. It seemed that Falman hadn't said anything to her either. Edward didn't blame him. Not with his family on the line as well.

But with that in mind, was no way he could tell the General. Not with the possibility of it getting back to 'Mustang.' Because if it did, Al and Winry could be—

Feeling the ground beneath him tremble slightly, Edward tensed and looked away from the General and toward his feet. No doubt feeling it too, she rose to her feet and focused her attention on the massive soldier that had brought Edward there. "What was that," she barked as she sheathed her blade.

The giant furrowed his brows and pursed his lips together. After a few moments of thought, she shook his head and said, "I'm uncertain, General. But allow me to step out and find out."

"That won't be necessary," she said as she walked past him and headed toward the door. "Miles, Falman: you are to both come with me. Buccaneer," she said as the giant saluted, "Bring the child as well. I don't want him heading off and causing any trouble."

"Yes, sir," Buccaneer affirmed as he gave Edward a shove toward the door. "Start walking, kid, and follow the General."

Deciding that it was in his best interest to follow whatever they said, Edward did not utter a word and plodded after Miles and Falman as they filed out of the room and after the General. Following after them as they turned a corner and began to head toward the massive boiler room he had seen earlier that night, Edward began to wonder about what the sound could have been. Something about its abruptness and the fact that an alarm of sorts hadn't gone off made him consider it being something smaller. Something more contained.

But what could it be? Something smaller than an army and yet large enough to rock the foundation of the massive fort?

Unable to help it, his mind instantly wandered to the monster possessing Mustang's body, knowing the firepower the Colonel contained. Still, though, he was fairly confident that the Homunculus was unable to use alchemy, or flame alchemy at the very least, leading him now to consider what its power truly was. He knew that Lust had her spears, Greed his ultimate shield, and Envy was able to shape shift.

So what could there possibly be that the Homunculus could do?

Upon hearing the sound of gunshots, Edward was pulled from his thoughts as they rounded a corner and headed toward the brightly lit area that opened up to the boiler area.

"Sir!"

He watched as General Armstrong sprinted ahead and stopped at the top of the stairs, peering down into the boiler room below. Moments later a soldier ran up and halted beside her as he threw up a hasty salute. "Sir," Edward heard him say as they got closer, "It came out of nowhere! Right now we're doing our best to fend it off, but our bullets don't seem to be working."

"General," Buccaneer began, "What are your orders—" He stopped, however, when he too peered down into the room below.

Edward stepped around the transfixed soldiers and peered down into the room himself… and his stomach plummeted. The area that had once held a multitude of boilers had caved in on itself, leaving a large gaping hole in the cement. All around it were countless soldiers, all of their guns trained on one massive shape that was slowly wandering through them.

He watched as the soldiers began to fire again, and witnessed the burly creature lumber past them as if their bullets did not faze it.

"My god," the General uttered from beside him, her eyes still locked on the creature. "What the hell is that thing…?"

But by the time she had spoken those words, Edward already knew. Because before it had to face them, he managed to catch a glimpse of a distinct marking on its shoulder.

The thing that was indicative of every Homunculus they had encountered.

The Ouroboros tattoo…

* * *

Wrath awoke with a start when a loud crack of thunder tore through the air, catapulting him out of Mustang's nightmare and into the contrastingly darker, more quiet room he had fallen asleep in. Gasping to try and calm himself, he blindly reached out and felt around for his light's pull string until he caught it and yanked it, bathing his room in a dim orange glow. It took him a few additional moments to finally catch his breath, though he could still feel and hear his heart pounding in his chest and ringing in his ears.

It had been a nightmare about Ishval again, something Wrath had grown accustomed to very quickly. Most nights he was able to push Mustang deep enough into his subconscious to prevent dealing with him. On some nights, however, Mustang's vivid recollections of the war would bleed into Wrath's consciousness and eventually wake him.

This time it had been the latter…

But even as the images of bloodied ruins and charred corpses faded from his mind, his heart still raced. Suddenly, his hand flew up from his side and pushed the receiver of his bedside phone off its cradle. Feeling his dominance falter, he pushed back at Mustang, but found that the man had an incredible amount of force within him that night.

His other hand then moved up and clumsily began tapping out a series of numbers on the telephone. Realizing who he was calling, Wrath forced Mustang back, only to have him push against him with even more force. Feeling himself slipping back, Wrath growled as Roy took control of his other hand and grabbed the receiver, pressing it to his ear as it began to ring.

" _ **She won't answer,"**_ Wrath snarled internally. _**"Your efforts are wasted."**_ He paused, waiting for the Colonel's explanation. When one did not come, he pushed again; only to have the Colonel push back with the same amount of force, putting them in a stalemate.

" _ **What's the matter, Mustang,"**_ Wrath taunted. _**"Have you not enough energy to even speak?"**_ When his words once again seemingly went unheard, Wrath examined Mustang's essence more closely as the phone's second ring thundered in his ear.

The Colonel, while not particularly chatty, had almost always responded in some way when prompted. However, now he was only responding by pushing back with equal vigor, as if he only meant to match Wrath-

After the third ring the recipient picked up the receiver and muttered, "Hello;" her voice still gravelly and rough from sleep. "Hawkeye speaking." He noticed that she stumbled slightly over her host's last name, as if she had nearly forgotten to maintain her cover.

Upon hearing her voice Mustang's stomach somersaulted. But despite that he did not utter a single word toward her.

Fed up with the Colonel's game, Wrath forced himself into the Colonel's subconscious… only to find that his thoughts were entirely on listening for her voice. All concentration, all thought, was _purely_ on her. It was then that Wrath realized why Mustang wasn't responding to his demands. After all, it was difficult to multitask while he was sleeping.

The nightmare, Wrath realized, had felt so real to Mustang that he subconsciously acted on it – going so far as to force Wrath away just to call the one person that understood him better than anyone else, just to hear her voice again.

When she repeated her salutation again in a more irritated tone, Wrath forced Mustang back again and managed to utter, "My apologies. He managed to slip through while I was asleep." He paused and waited for Lust to respond. Wrath was surprised to say the least when he heard a small click, followed by the dissolution of the empty hollowness a connected phone would have. Pulling the receiver away, he stared down at it as his – no, Mustang's – stomach rolled uncomfortably. But as soon as the discomfort began to turn to pain, he pushed Mustang back down into his subconscious – this time without a struggle.

* * *

With a low growl, Lust gripped her nightshirt in her fist and bowed forward, silently commanding her heart to slow. By giving Mustang that small window of opportunity, he managed to wake the Lieutenant up. And once she heard his voice, she pushed back with more force than she had previously that day, nearly catching Lust off guard herself.

Feeling a small droplet of blood trickle down her lip as the rich taste of iron filled her mouth, she silently damned Wrath and his ineptitude.

* * *

When he had at last calmed Mustang's rapidly beating heart, Wrath closed his eyes and berated himself for allowing his host to slip through so easily. It was one thing to have the Colonel consciously force his way forward, but something else entirely to have him push past him while he slept…-

The ground beneath him slowly trembled, causing the bed to rattle. The unexpected incidence pulled Wrath out of his stupor and forcing him to instinctively tense as a low rumble reverberated through the dark room. Swinging his legs over the edge of the bed, he pressed them to the cold concrete and paused as another tremor surged through the floor.

Realizing that something was amiss, he rose to his feet and grabbed his jacket off a coatrack stationed in the corner of the room and threw it on over his shoulders. As he slipped his arms through the sleeves, he realized that whatever it was had likely aroused Mustang enough to shift his dreams toward Ishval, conveniently disguising it as one of the dream's blasts.

Pulling open the drawer of his nightstand, Wrath dug Mustang's ignition gloves out and pocketed them, all the while hoping the Colonel did not make an appearance again as the faint taste of blood swirled around on his tongue.

* * *

"Fire again!"

Edward flinched as the arsenal of tanks fired their guns all at once, knowing that the projectiles they launched would only bounce off the massive Homunculus yet again. So when they did, he turned exasperatedly to the General and yelled, "It won't stay dead when killed! Not even fire will kill it!"

"What," she snapped as she whirled around to glare at him.

Clenching his jaw shut, Edward admonished himself for yelling so impulsively as he averted his eyes from her glare.

"How do you know so much? Explain yourself," Buccaneer snarled as he turned his focus toward the golden-haired boy.

"Just trust me on this," he said as he jerked his head around to look back at General Armstrong as she ordered the cannons to fire again. "That won't work," Edward cried again. "It won't—"

"I know that now," Armstrong yelled from atop the tank. "But I'm sure as hell not waiting for Mustang to drag his lazy ass out of bed to assist us with his puny flames. Besides," she added as she turned her head slightly to side-eye the creature, "I'll give it something _much worse_ than fire."

Buccaneer laughed and clapped his hand down on top of Edward's head and leaned in close. "You ready, State Alchemist? You're gonna see how we do things here in Briggs… And you're gonna help."

Before Edward could respond, Buccaneer wrapped his massive arm around Edward's waist and tucked him beneath it, lifting him off the ground as he began to face up the stairs, carrying Edward like a sack of potatoes.

"Gate B," Miles called from behind them.

"Roger," Buccaneer yelled back as he reached the top of the steps.

As he began to turn, Edward saw Warrant Officer Falman bounding after them with a massive canteen in his hands. Looking up at Buccaneer, Edward saw that he was using his other hand to balance a similar looking container on his shoulder. "Where are we going," Edward called as Buccaneer hustled down the hallway and toward the elevator.

"In here," the mammoth of a man replied as the doors opened and admitted them inside. As soon as Falman straggled in behind them, he loosened his grip on Edward and set him down on the ground. When it began to ascend, he said, "I'm only going to say this once you two, so make sure you listen up.

"See these canisters here?" The two of them nodded. "These are filled with a liquid that will penetrate that monster's body and freeze when exposed to the cold Briggs air. It is your job to make sure that the contents of these containers end up all over it."

"And then what," Edward asked as he tested the can's weight, discovering that it was heavier than it looked.

"You just leave that to me," Buccaneer rumbled as the elevator came to a halt. The moment its doors opened, he stepped out into the freezing cold bay and pointed toward the pipes lining the ceiling. "For now I want you two up there and ready for when the monster gets here."

Just as Edward craned his head back to look at the ceiling, something grabbed his hips and hoisted him into the air, eliciting a yelp of surprise from Edward. As he regained his composure he heard Buccaneer grumbled something about southerners under his breath. But before he could say something back he was within arms length of one of the pipes. Reaching up, he grabbed onto it and dangled from it for a few moments before pulling himself up and scrambling up into them. As he worked to adjust himself, he saw Falman being elevated up into them as well.

Looking down, he saw Buccaneer standing impatiently below him with a canister in his hands. Dipping forward, Edward rested his stomach on the pipe and reached down as the man lifted the liquid up. When he grasped the handle, he pulled it up and set it down on the pipe with a loud _clunk_. Unscrewing the cap, he leaned forward to gaze inside and was hit moments later with a pungent odor that smelled strongly like ammonia. Blanching, he loosely screwed the cap back on and set it back down.

"Hey," he began as he looked down for their next set of instructions, "What next—" The sound of the elevator door opening caught his attention and forced him to clamp his mouth shut. Leaning forward, he surveyed the area for Buccaneer, but found that he had vanished. Turning his attention toward the elevator, he held his breath and watched as the Homunculus slowly stepped out and looked around, muttering about how cold it was.

It shuffled forward a few steps and stopped to look around again when another dark object emerged from the shadows.

Diving forward so he could see, Edward watched as Buccaneer leapt ahead and grabbed the monster's arm and yanked it over his body, hurtling it over his shoulder. When it hit the ground with a massive _thud_ , he yelled, "Do it now!"

Unscrewing the cap, Edward tipped the container over and pushed it over the edge, watching as it, and Falman's, toppled over and hit the creature, spilling their foul-smelling contents all over the beast.

"Got him," Edward yelled as he slid off the piping and landed on his feet behind the monster.

"Good work," Buccaneer cried as Falman dropped down from the ceiling and landed next to him.

"Smells… bad," the Homunculus rumbled as it slowly turned around toward them.

So they had gotten the contents of the containers onto the monster, but now the question remained. "So how are we going to push it outside the gate," Edward muttered as he crouched down into a fighting stance. When Buccaneer paused, Edward looked over at him and yelped, "Don't tell me you haven't planned that far—"

A quiet ' _ding'_ caught their attention, prompting the men to look past the beast and toward the elevator door as it slowly opened. Seeing something inside of it, Edward tensed and narrowed his eyes, trying to figure out what it could possibly be…

His jaw nearly hit the floor when the barrel of a tank's assault weapon emerged from the elevator.

"Move it, shorty!"

Instantly considering the General's command, Edward leapt out of the way as the tank plowed through the half-opened doors and released an artillery shell.

Jerking his head around, Edward saw it connect with the Homunculus's abdomen, sending it hurtling out of the immediate area and toward the outside gate.

The moment its feet found purchase on the ground, a second boom tore through the air as a second shot of ammo slammed into the creature. But just when Edward thought it had been enough, it found the metal bar that spanned the pathway for support and stayed atop the fort, doubled over and slowly wheezing as it tried to refill its lungs.

"Hey why'd you—" Edward whirled around to see that the General had dropped back down into the tank to yell the same question to the one driving it. When he heard a muffled " _We're out of ammo,"_ his stomach dropped. They needed to get it over the edge if they wanted the liquid concoction to work.

As the men inside the tank began to argue about what to do, Officer Falman dug into the satchel draped over his shoulders and called, "Then how about this?"

When he produced a hand pistol, Edward cried, "I told you guns won't—"

A moment after Falman fired the single shot, a massive object fell from the ceiling and landed directly on the beast's head. Edward watched in astonishment as the monster swayed uneasily, the impressively sized chunk of ice it had been hit with clearly taking its toll.

Without a second thought he and Buccaneer sprinted forward and a final blow to the beast, slamming it against and breaking the railing that had saved it moments before. They watched as it teetered dangerously before it finally lost its balance and tumbled over the edge, plummeting down into the icy darkness below. Edging forward after it, Edward peered over the edge and looked down the moment it hit the ground.

He watched in silent astonishment as it immediately tried to get to its feet, the fall apparently having no effect on it whatsoever. However, after a few moments of struggling, it fell back onto its hands and knees before falling face first into the snow.

As he leaned closer to see if it would move again, he heard someone stop beside him. "Hibernate there until spring, you slug," General Armstrong growled under her breath as she stared down at it.

The small group remained silent, standing on the edge of the fort as they looked down at the unmoving beast, slowly trying to process what had just happened. When the silence had stretched for a moment too long, the General cleared her throat and said, "Captain Buccaneer, I want you and the rest of the men to go down and survey the damage."

"Yes, sir," the soldier complied as he stepped back and motioned for the men to follow.

"And you," she uttered, causing Edward to tense. "You will tell me everything you know the second we have a moment's peace. Is that understood?"

Swallowing the lump that had formed in his throat, Edward pressed his lips together and kept his glare focused on the Homunculus, trying to convey a sense of calm. But on the inside he was screaming, now trapped by his faux loyalty to 'Mustang' and stuck beneath the General's thumb. He had no clue what to do now…

"Is that understood?"

He flinched as her cold tone broke through his internal struggle. Turning his head slightly, he saw that her hardened glare was fixated on him, unwavering and lethal. He could feel the pressure of her thumb increasing exponentially, to the point where he was convinced that her stare alone could crush him.

Finding himself backed into a corner, he looked her in the eye and nodded, inwardly telling himself that he would find a way to protect what really was at stake, no matter what it may cost him.

* * *

Neither 'Mustang' nor General Raven were in sight when the group made their way back down to the beast's origin to survey the damage. From what it appeared, the Homunculus had damaged two of the massive boilers closest to the vicinity of the hole it had created when it burst through the ground. Aside from that, multiple vehicles and a tank were damaged, likely beyond repair. And yet all the men seemed intact; a little shaken perhaps, but all in one piece.

But despite everything the soldiers stationed there had already begun to work, milling around the hole and removing debris and broken equipment away from it.

Edward followed after the General as the men parted and saluted her, stopping just short of her when she stood at the edge of the hole beside Captain Buccaneer and looked down into it with him.

Before either one of them going exchange words with the other, Edward heard two additional sets of footsteps behind them. When he looked over his shoulder, the hairs on the back of his neck stood on end.

Hearing the footfalls as well, General Armstrong and Buccaneer turned around as well, watching as General Raven and 'Mustang' approached them. Armstrong narrowed her eyes as they came to a stop in front of her.

Looking around and surveying the damage, General Raven began to ask, "What is going on here—"

"That's precisely what I would like to know," General Armstrong interrupted as she took a step toward Mustang and General Raven. "Because all I know at this moment is that we were blindsided by a monster of unknown origin."

"Monster," 'Mustang' asked warily, keeping his eyes on Armstrong.

Still, Edward couldn't help but feel that he was somehow keeping tabs on him as well, despite his entire focus seemingly being only on the General. Remembering the Homunculus's eyes in his dream, he couldn't stop himself from shuddering.

"Yes. A monster," Armstrong confirmed as she folded her arms over her chest. "A monster that directly attacked our fort while you two slept comfortably in your quarters."

"What did this monster look like," Raven asked curiously.

"It appeared humanoid," Armstrong elaborated. "About ten feet tall with a red marking on its shoulder."

'Mustang's' eyes wandered over to Edward and locked themselves on him, boring into him with newfound intensity. Averting his eyes slightly, Edward focused on a pile of crates just beyond the Homunculus's shoulders, silently praying that General Armstrong would spare him when the inevitable question would arise.

"So what do you think it was," Raven inquired as he rubbed his hands together. "Surely you must have some idea?"

"I haven't the faintest idea," she began.

"Fullmetal."

Edward flinched upon hearing 'Mustang's' voice. When he looked up at him, he continued, "Were you present at the time of this monster's attack?"

Before Edward could answer, General Armstrong stepped in front of him and said, "Just as I had mentioned earlier, Mustang: An active fort is no place for a child. He ran out moments before we rid ourselves of the beast and was nearly trampled by it."

Mustang looked past her and toward Edward again, likely taking note that he was still in his pajamas.

"When I asked him if he knew what it was, he said he had no clue." Taking a step toward one of the bays that led outside, she added, "I highly doubt there are any additional questions you could ask that I hadn't, because just like you he knows absolutely nothing."

"We should judge it for ourselves," Raven butt in, stepping into Armstrong's field of vision. "So if you could show us where you put it, we may possibly decipher what it could be."

The General's eyes flickered between Raven and 'Mustang' before they at last fell on the latter. "Very well." Turning to Buccaneer, she ordered, "Take the boy back to his room at once and be sure that he doesn't leave." And turning her glance toward Miles, she commanded, "Tell Unit F to prepare the vehicles and open the main gate. I want Unit C stationed out there with us with cooling canisters. I don't want that beast to wake up."

"Yes, sir," both men cried in unison.

"Come on then," Buccaneer grumbled as he gave Edward a shove. "Let's get a move on."

As Buccaneer began to lead him away, Edward threw a quick glance over his shoulder to see that 'Mustang's' eyes were locked on him and narrowed menacingly. Biting back his uneasiness, he quickly turned away and began to head in the direction Buccaneer had begun leading him, hoping that he wouldn't have to be interrogated by him as well.

* * *

Instead of being led back to his room like he was led to believe, Edward found himself turned around and led back into the boiler area minutes later and being lowered into the hole the Homunculus had risen out of and prodded along until he, Falman, Miles, and Buccaneer were well away from the loud hustle and bustle of the fort above. Every attempt Edward made at speaking to them about their intentions was shot down until he threatened to turn back, in which Major Miles responded to by pulling out this pistol and using it to 'persuade' Edward to keep going. Why, he wondered as they continued to walk along in silence, would they possibly bring him down there despite the General's orders? When they had gotten far enough away to no longer hear anything from the fort, Edward decided to try once more. "Why did you drag us all the way down here," he muttered as he slowly turned around and eyed Buccaneer and Miles.

"So that we aren't interrupted," Miles explained as he reholstered his weapon. "Now," he said as he gestured toward the tunnel, "We know that you have more information about that thing than you've been letting on. So the General requested that you examine the tunnel and give us your opinion of it _without_ General Raven or Mustang's heresy."

Edward narrowed his eyes. "With all due respect, I didn't hear the General give an order like that."

Taking an intimidating step forward, Buccaneer growled as he folded his arms, "That's because we're operating in regards to her subtext. Now if I were you, I would follow the General's true orders and get to work before she finishes up with her little talk."

Deciding that facing the behemoth, and inevitably General Armstrong's wrath, was a poor idea, Edward took a step back and pivoted around, glaring into the darkness.

He furrowed his brows. Judging by the way it ran, it wasn't heading toward or away from Drachma. Instead, it was running along with the fort above and, if his immediate hypothesis was correct, then—

"Well?"

Edward jerked his head up and around to look at the two Briggs soldiers that were standing behind him. Gesturing to the tunnel, he asked, "Do you have a map by chance?"

Buccaneer pursed his lips and frowned. "No, we don't. Why?"

"Because," Edward muttered as he crouched down and stared into the darkness, "The tunnel is running along the edge of Briggs, still within the confines of our country. I suspect that it was dug in a circular pattern."

"A circle," Buccaneer muttered as he stared down at Edward.

"In alchemy a circle is both a symbolic and literal conduit for the flow of power. Meaning that if my theory is correct, then there is a massive circle being dug beneath Amestris.

"Officer Falman," Edward continued as he looked over his shoulder at the soldier, "Would you be able to list the incidents in this country's history that resulted in major bloodshed once we get a map?"

Slightly confused, the officer furrowed his brows and formed his lips in a thin line. Then, after a few moments, he nodded and said, "Yes, I should be able to recall them all."

"Alright then," Edward said as he rose to his feet and turned his focus back to the two Briggs men. "I'll tell General Armstrong what I know if I'm able to speak to her privately again without either General Rave or Mustang knowing."

"We can assure that you will," Major Miles confirmed with a nod. "But I must ask: What are you beginning to theorize?"

Edward shook his head. "I don't want to jump to conclusions before I see a map. But I can assure you that I will tell the General my honest thoughts."

He meant it too. It had been something he had been tossing back and forth in his mind from the moment the General spoke to 'Mustang.' Because instead of hinting that he had an idea of what the 'monster' was, she decided to feign ignorance in order to preserve 'Mustang's' trust in him, even if it was only to keep him as an informant. But still, she had perceived that and respected it. And at that moment, he needed every ally he could muster.

* * *

Their first day of 'work' was met with an empty office and no signs of Lust. So when Zampano and Jerso showed up shortly after Winry and Alphonse had gotten to Central Command, they discovered that they were given a day for research.

Shortly thereafter the pair found themselves at the Central library, escorted by the two soldiers of course.

Turning down the first aisle of books they came upon, Alphonse and Winry slowed to a crawl and began to idly drift between the shelves. Even though the books Alphonse truly wanted to see where on the opposite end of the library, he figured that the more wandering they did the better, especially since Zampano and Jerso had allowed them to meander off without having to be within earshot.

It seemed as though they were either clueless about the existence of the Homunculi, therefore being in the dark about Lieutenant Hawkeye's 'true identity,' or they were extremely skilled actors. He hoped that it would be the former, however, because they seemed like genuinely good men…

"Alphonse," Winry whispered as she rocked one of the books on the shelf toward her, pretending that she was interested in the spine, "How long do you think we can stay until they make us go back?"

"I don't know," he admitted quietly as he took the opportunity to cautiously check their surroundings. When he didn't see anyone around them, he continued, "The Lieutenant wasn't there this morning so she might have other things to do. And if that's the case, then we won't be needed there for a while."

"I hope so," she confessed as she pushed the book back into its place and made to grab for another one. "Because I really don't want to go back there…"

He felt the same way. Still, he had to remain strong for her sake and his brother's. Resisting the urge to loosen his shoulders, he stood up straight and said, "Then let's try to make a day of this so we won't have to. We can look at books about automail first if you'd like."

The corners of her lips turned upward at his attempt to lighten the situation. "That would be great, Al, I'd—"

Alphonse suddenly felt something behind him move. Actually, truly _felt_ it; the feeling itself penetrating through his armor and washing in icy waves over his soul. Jerking his head around, he saw that there wasn't anyone there.

"I knew it!"

He jumped, startled by the voice. Looking down, he saw a young boy standing in front of him, his large dark eyes fixated on Alphonse.

Something about the boy immediately sparked a sense of familiarity in Alphonse, and yet he wasn't entirely sure where he had seen the boy before.

"Sorry to disturb you, sir," the little boy said politely. "But I recognized you from far away and I just had to say 'hi!' Oh, if my dad were here he would be so excited!"

His dad…? Where had he met a father and son before? And a pair that apparently knew him, and likely his brother as well…?

Suddenly the memories came flooding back to Alphonse. He hadn't met the boy in person before, but he _had_ seen him… on the front of a newspaper. "Oh! You're Selim Bradley," Alphonse exclaimed.

"That's right," the boy said as he nodded proudly. "And you're the brother of the tiny alchemist, Edward Elric!"

Surprised that he had gotten the distinction right the first time, Alphonse bobbed his head. "That's right. I'm Alphonse Elric and this," he added as he gestured to Winry, "Is Winry. She's a friend of mine and Edward's."

The child gasped, his eyes widening as he stared at her with awe. Then at last, he exclaimed, "Are you _the_ Winry Rockbell? The Fullmetal Alchemist's automail mechanic?"

Smiling toward him, she admitted with a shrug, "I am Ed's automail mechanic, though I didn't know I was that well-known."

"Of course you are," he proclaimed enthusiastically. "Lieutenant Hawkeye said a lot of incredible things about you when she stopped over the other day!"

Winry's breath hitched as Al tensed. When the boy shot them a look of confusion, Alphonse raised his hands and waved them back and forth, saying, "It's nothing. We were just surprised that the Lieutenant mentioned us at all."

"Oh yeah," the boy beamed, "She drops by a lot and mentions you from time to time. Like how you two are staying here while your brother is up north on a super secret mission. Like… that's so cool!"

"Uh, yeah, that is pretty cool," Alphonse replied hesitantly.

Seemingly not noticing, Selim went on to say, "Next time she stops by to drop off some more of Father's paperwork I'll ask her how everything is going…" He tapered off as his smile fell and he looked away, the cheerful air about him slowly dissipating. "Father was always interested in your adventures, especially Edward Elric's since he's the youngest State Alchemist. He told me that he's one of the best that there is and said that he's a great hero for me to have!"

"Your father…" Alphonse began carefully as he looked down at the sullen boy. "How… How is he doing?"

"He's okay," Selim replied quietly as he toed the carpet, keeping his eyes fixed on the floor. "Mother says that he's still very weak and that the doctors are trying their best…"

"I'm so sorry to hear that," Winry comforted as she stooped down on one knee and put a hand on the boy's shoulder. "But it sounds like he's a fighter. And I'll bet they have the best doctors in all Amestris working on him."

Balling his hands into fists, Selim nodded and declared, "I have to believe in my father and his doctors! He's strong and can overcome anything! He's a little sick right now, but I know he'll make it through so he can take his position as Fuhrer again!"

"That's the spirit," Winry said as she smiled. "I'll keep him in my thoughts as well."

"Thank you, Miss Winry," the boy cried as he threw his arms around her neck. "You're so nice."

Hugging him back, she said, "You just stay strong for both your father and mother, okay?"

Pulling away, he grinned and said, "I will!"

"There you are, Master Selim."

Looking past the boy and Winry, Alphonse saw two soldiers standing beyond them, their hands on their gun holsters.

"Sorry for running off," he said as he bound over to them. "But I saw Mr. Alphonse and Miss Winry and I had to say hello!"

"Are they friends of yours," one of the men with suspicion.

"Yeah," the little boy quipped. "He's the brother of the Fullmetal Alchemist and she's his mechanic."

"I see," the man replied as he focused his suspicious glare on Alphonse.

Just as Alphonse was about to try and defuse their concerns, Selim jumped in and said, "Well, it was nice meeting you two. Thank you for talking to me and making me feel better about my father."

"Of course," Winry replied with a smile. "We're glad to help."

Turning toward the soldiers, the little boy said, "We should leave them alone now. They seem _really_ busy with a bunch of important stuff."

Still slightly taken aback by the boy's familiarity with the two, the two soldiers paused and eyed Winry and Alphonse for a few moments, but quickly complied as Selim turned around and gave them a final wave. "Thank you again! I hope you two have a wonderful day."

Alphonse and Winry raised their hands in reply and gave him their salutations, watching after them as Selim towed the two soldiers back toward the children's book section. When they turned around a corner and vanished, Winry said, "He such a sweet kid and he seems like he's been so strong throughout this entire ordeal with his father. Maybe I could bake his mother and him something and see if we can get clearance to have it taken to them."

"Yeah," Alphonse replied. "That would be nice. Although I don't think we should go through the Lieutenant."

The remnants of Winry's smile vanished upon the mention of the 'Lieutenant.' "You're right," she agreed half-heartedly.

"But maybe we can get clearance through Zampano or Jerso, or someone else that I know at Central Command," Alphonse offered in the hopes that he could lift her spirits some. "I bet that we can find someone to do it for us."

Seeing what he was trying to do, Winry moved her shoulders up and down and said, "I suppose that's possible."

"Yeah," Alphonse replied with more enthusiasm. "In fact, let's bet that we can." Gesturing toward the other end of the library, he added, "I know where the baking books all are. Let's go over there and start picking some out for you."

Her faint smile returning, Winry nodded and said, "You're right. Let's go check them out and see if we can find something that includes chocolate."

* * *

After allowing their time there to stretch for as long as they could, Zampano and Jerso at last showed up around 4:30 to escort Alphonse and Winry back to their hotel. Thankful that they would not have to go back to Central Command, the pair eagerly followed after the two soldiers and began to make their way toward the exit.

"Winry? Alphonse?"

The four of them turned around to see Gracia Hughes approaching them. When she saw that they noticed her, she stopped just short of them and smiled. "Fancy seeing you two here. How have you been?"

"We've been alright," Alphonse replied as he tried to keep his tone cheerful. "How have you been, Mrs. Hughes?"

"I've been alright," she admitted. "I've just been running errands all day and then figured I'd swing by to pick up a few recipe books." Glancing at Winry, her smile broadened. "I found a few new recipes I would like to try and make. Maybe next time you're in town a bit longer we could make them together."

"That would be great," Winry responded with a forced smile. "I'd love to sometime."

"Oh," Jerso said as he raised a curious brow, "I thought you two were staying here for a while, seeing that the General and Fullmetal will be gone for a period of time."

"Oh," Gracia inquired as she looked between the two of them, noticing that Edward was not anywhere in sight. "Edward isn't here?"

"No," Alphonse admitted reluctantly. "He and the General were called for a mission up north. They left yesterday."

"I see," she said as she shook her head, "They really know how to keep him busy, don't they?"

"Yeah, they do," Alphonse agreed.

"So what are you two up to while Edward's away then," she asked as she smiled at them.

"Lieutenant Hawkeye said that there was a temporary position open in the military for an automail mechanic and invited me to try and get it," Winry lied. "So I figured that I would apply since Alphonse would be here alone while Ed was up north."

"Well that was very nice of you," Gracia said with a smile. "It'll be nice having you here for a little while longer then. Elicia would love to see you again at some point."

Winry nodded passively and said, "Yeah, that would be nice. Maybe some night where I won't have to work, though."

Gracia raised her brows in surprise. "They would make you work that late?"

"Um," Winry began, "Well, I don't know if it'll be too late. You see, Lieutenant Hawkeye said that the work can really pile up depending on how many patients there are at a given time. So there might be some really unpredictable and late nights. I would hate to impose then."

"I'm sure Riza understands that, but I don't think she would let them work you to the bone," Gracia countered thoughtfully. "But how about this," she added as her smile broadened, "If she doesn't, you invite her along too so we can get the night off for both of you."

"Oh, sure," Winry replied, taken aback by Gracia's offer. "I'll… see what she says and I can let you know."

"Great," Gracia beamed. "I look forward to it." Raising a hand, she said, "But for now I have to go. Elicia is at daycare and I have to pick her up before they close. Be sure to call me when you get a chance though, alright?"

"We will," Winry responded as she waved.

"Bye Mrs. Hughes," Alphonse added as the woman dipped her head.

"Goodbye everyone. It was so nice seeing all of you today. Just let me know and I'll be sure to have an apple pie baked and ready."

"Thanks, Mrs. Hughes," Alphonse called after her as she turned away and headed down the library's main staircase. Before they followed suit, Alphonse paused and felt Winry's eyes on him. Glancing down at her, he saw the immense worry in her eyes. And without her having to say it, he knew.

They could not, under any circumstances, allow Gracia and Elicia cross paths with 'Lieutenant Hawkeye.'

* * *

"That could have gone better than it had," Wrath grumbled as he and Raven stopped at the top of the stairs that led back into the core of the fort.

"Agreed. I fear she may become a thorn in our side," Raven declared as he clasped his hands behind his back and turned around to face Wrath.

"Indeed," Wrath muttered as he leaned against the wall and stared down at the Briggs soldiers as they milled around the hole Sloth had created.

"I'm having difficulties determining what we should do about her," Raven continued as he too turned his attention toward the men as they worked, "Especially since Briggs is absolutely vital to our plans."

"I know that," Wrath mumbled irritably. "And right now I'm having trouble placing her as well. Mustang's memories and thoughts of her are all over the place. One moment I'm seeing visions of their bickering and heated arguments, and the next I'm feeling vaguely amicable toward her. It's difficult to place."

"Well, what's _your_ impression of her," General Raven asked.

Wrath pursed his lips together and frowned as he recollected the conversation they had as they stood over Sloth's suspended form. Even then her intentions were difficult to organize, because on one hand her brush with immortality seemingly sparked her interest, but on the other her concern for her fellow Briggs men was evident, though subtle. "She," he began slowly, "Appears to be a woman that lives by principles that will push her to the top. If we can play on them, we may be able persuade her to return to Central willingly."

"I suppose that is our best option," Raven agreed. "Though it may prove difficult to find a spot for her once she's there."

Wrath shot Raven a sideways glance. "If it comes down to it, we will find a way to make room."

The other General nodded in agreement. "I suppose that's true, seeing that we've been backed into a corner now with the appearance of Sloth. Her full compliance is needed now more than ever seeing that his job is still incomplete."

"Right," Wrath agreed. "But for now, let's wait and let her cool down before we speak to her again."

"Of course," Raven replied. "We must be certain she is of sound mind before tossing the idea of immortality at her."

Wrath nodded. "But for now you'll excuse me," he said. "I need to go and make an important call."

"Very well," Raven said as he dipped his head approvingly. "I'll discuss this more with you later."

Wrath hummed in reply before turning on his heels, heading back toward the heart of the fort as he reconstructed and deconstructed their conversation with the female General. He believed it would be difficult to convince her overall, but with the right words he was confident that they could at the very least remove her from her position. And if they didn't, he would have no problem dispatching her at the right moment…

He could not, of course, forget Edward. Despite the boy keeping his lips sealed, he still saw Sloth and would likely have a plethora of questions for Wrath in regards to the Homunculus's identity.

But for the time being he needed to focus on the task at hand. The plan would need to move faster now that attention had been turned away from his arrival at the fort and now focused on Sloth. And with the new idea he had in mind, he would likely keep Edward's cooperation.

When he finally reached his room, Wrath stripped his jacket off and tossed it onto a nearby chair before sitting down on his bed. Reaching over and picking the receiver up off of its cradle. Pressing it to his ear, he dialed out the number he had called earlier that morning and waited as it rang.

By the third ring a familiar voice answered. " _Riza Hawkeye speaking_."

"It's me," Wrath revealed.

Dropping her act, Lust replied, " _Are you having difficulties with him again?"_

"No," he responded. "It's about the plan." When she hummed in reply, he continued, "It seems that things are moving faster than previously thought," Wrath muttered into the line.

" _Is that so?"_

"Yes," he confirmed. "And because of that you need to move faster as well. We need the whereabouts of Dr. Marcoh so that Kimblee can secure him for us again. I don't believe for one second that the Elric brothers don't know where he and Scar went."

" _I see_ ," she mused. " _And you want me to ask the younger one for you?_ "

"Yes," he replied. "Alphonse Elric is the one that is currently in a more vulnerable position. Use that to your advantage to get the information we need."

He heard her inhale softly, the sound akin to a quiet laugh. " _Very well_ ," Lust purred over the line as a smirk crept across Wrath's face, " _I can get you that information by tomorrow evening_."

* * *

 **A/N** : _Wow this chapter was long! Per usual, please let me know if you see any OOCness or have any questions! The conversation between Armstrong, Wrath, and Raven will be explored next chapter. Also, next chapter is going to be a big one and I'm really excited to write it._

 _Again, thank you all so much for reading, reviewing, favoriting, and following. You're all so wonderful!_


	12. Chapter 12

**A/N:** _I just want to preface this chapter by asking you to trust me. I know the ending looks bad, but know that I have a reason for everything I do and write. It will all make sense next chapter. But for now, please enjoy, and thank you for your reviews, favorites, and follows!_

* * *

Collapsing onto his bed, Edward stared up at the ceiling as his mind continued to reel. In the short amount of time he had spent at Fort Briggs, he had learned so much about the Homunculi's intentions… And yet he still felt there was more to the puzzle. If his theory was correct, then they were using the country's shape advantageously in order to create a massive transmutation circle… But for what purpose?

Something of that magnitude would require an immense amount of energy and power… But without seeing a map and without Falman's knowledge it was difficult to draw any further conclusions. Still, something inside of him told him that its purpose was dire…-

His thoughts were interrupted when someone pounded on the steel door that enclosed him in his room. Sitting up, he strained to listen, hoping to hear anything that could tell him who it was. But if it had been Buccaneer or Miles or even Falman, then they surely would have used a key to unlock it and gain entrance. Meaning that it was possible it was…

When the knocks broke his thoughts again, he slid off of the bed and cautiously crept over to and stopped in front of the door. Taking a deep breath to chase away the feeling of uneasiness that had begun to settle in his gut, Edward clapped his hands together and touched them to the door, changing the configuration of the lock to allow it to open. When he heard the confirmatory click that signaled it was open, he slowly opened the door and found himself face-to-face with 'Mustang.'

The General gave him a curious look and asked, "You dead bolted your door?"

"No," Edward replied evenly. "If I could I still would. They want to make sure I stay put so they lock it themselves."

'Mustang' raised a dubious brow. "I'm surprised. I'd expect you to sneak around given your track record."

"And possibly endanger Winry and Al's lives if I overstep the boundary? Not a chance."

The corner of the General's lip tugged upward. "It seems we were right in choosing Alphonse and Winry Rockbell as our pawns."

Pushing back the feelings of disgust the Homunculus had extracted, Edward steadily asked, "Now that you know I'm here, what else do you want?"

'Mustang's' sinister smile grew and he tilted his head slightly. "I just wanted to make sure you were still keeping your promise to us."

"Of course I am," Edward replied bluntly to the threat. "Like I said, I know not to step over the boundary."

The General nodded thoughtfully. "I admire your maturity, Fullmetal. Hell, even the Colonel is surprised."

Edward scoffed. "Well tell him that I've matured since the last time we talked."

"Duly noted," the Homunculus replied with even tone.

"So is there anything else you needed," Edward asked warily.

'Mustang' shoved his hands into this pockets and shrugged. "I guess there really isn't. You've answered all of my questions." The corners of his lips twitched again, likely amused by Edward's distrustful expression. "And since that's the case, I suppose I'll be going."

As he turned away, Edward muttered, "Don't let the door hit you on the ass on your way out."

"Fullmetal!"

Edward froze upon hearing the General's strained gasp. Jerking his head up, he watched as he straightened up and stiffened.

After a few moments of silence, however, the General turned and glanced over his shoulder at him, beads of sweat rolling down his temple and his eyes narrowed with disdain. When his eyes locked with Edward's, he growled, "Nevermind," before turning and stalking away.

Closing the door behind him, Edward leaned back against it and stared down at the floor as he fell into a stupor. Not just because of the General's reminder, but because he was confident he had just heard Mustang's voice…

* * *

It had been the same as the night before. Edward was suddenly awoken from a dead sleep and dragged out of his bed amidst a flurry of confusion and flashes of whatever nightmare the night had decided to plague him with. This time, however, he recovered faster. Seeing this, Buccaneer granted him the right to walk on his own two feet.

Shuffling along down the darkened hallway, he allowed the larger man to wordlessly guide him to the small throne room he had visited the previous night. And when they had reached it and Buccaneer pushed the door open, Edward slowly stepped into the room and found himself in the same position he had been before.

Seated on the stone seat as she had been the night before, General Armstrong glanced up at him and held his stare, tapping her finger impatiently against the chair's armrest. Not daring his eyes to wander, he registered two stilled forms on either side of him, both of which he assumed were Warrant Officer Falman and Major Miles.

"A promise is a promise, Fullmetal Alchemist," the Ice Queen said as she broke the silence, leaning back in the chair and crossing one leg over the other..

Keeping his expression as impassive as he could, Edward raised his eyes and replied, "I know. And you'll get your information, regardless if you actually believe any of it or not." Though she only showed it with a twitch of her brow, Edward knew that her interest was piqued.

"Try me," she challenged impatiently as she folded her arms.

"But first," he began, "I want you to tell me what they—" He was cut off when Buccaneer gave him a shove.

When he turned around to face the Major, the behemoth growled, "I didn't hear the General say she was opening the floor to answer anything from you."

Holding firm to his resolve, Edward argued, "I have to know what they told her about that thing that attacked the fort. It might give me a basis for—"

"A chimera."

Whipping his head back around, Edward saw that the General had leaned forward and was now eyeing them critically.

"Sir," Buccaneer began again for clarification.

"They told me it was a chimera," she continued as her hardened focus returned to Edward. "One that was crafted by combining some sort of ape and a naked rat."

"And do you believe what they told you," Edward asked.

"Of course not," she scoffed. "Anyone that was near it could hear its constant droning. It was obvious it at least had some level of human intelligence."

"What did they want you to do with it," he inquired.

She drew her lips into a thin line, returning to her less-than-amused demeanor. "That's for me to disclose once you provide me with the information I requested," she answered. "So you tell me: If that wasn't a chimera, then what was it?"

Edward paused and chewed his lower lip for a few moments as a feeling of uneasiness washed over him. This was the moment. The moment that would truly determine if General Armstrong was friend or foe. Someone that he could either trust or add to the ever-growing list of enemies they seemed to be accumulating. After this moment, there would be no going back...

Still, it was the only thing he could do after being backed into a corner by both the General and 'Mustang' – especially since the latter refused to budge. At the very least he could try and find some footing with the former.

Deciding that there really was no going back, he swallowed back his hesitance. "You're right in saying that it isn't a chimera… Although," he continued slowly, "It was created using alchemy."

The corner of her lip twitched as she bowed forward and rested her elbows on her knees, resting her chin on the bridge her fingers formed when she wove them together. Edward knew that, despite the fact she had not pursued the art of alchemy, she would likely have some knowledge on the subject, especially since her younger brother was proficient in it. And he could tell by her expression and how her eyes widened slightly that he had succeeded, leading her exactly to the conclusion he hoped he would.

"Are you telling me that they created an artificial human," she concluded. "Something that is supposedly against one of the three restrictions on the practice of alchemy?"

Edward flinched upon hearing her recounting of the 'restrictions,' knowing all too well the reason for such a restriction. Still, he could not allow himself to dwell on the mistakes of his past. Not during a time where the ever looming uncertainty of the future hung in the balance. Clenching his metal fist, he looked her square in the eye and nodded. "Yes. That's exactly what I'm saying. It's called a Homunculus."

"And what exactly is the purpose of a 'Homunculus,'" she inquired. "How would the military benefit from such an abomination to nature?"

"Well," Edward began, "You saw what it did down there. You saw how it threw those tanks around as if they were toys. These… beings have capabilities no normal human could possess, even with alchemy."

"So it's a weapon of war?"

Edward shook his head. "No. If my thoughts about this one are correct, then its purpose is not to fight in a war."

"This one," she analyzed as she raised her brows. "There are more of them?"

Edward grimaced, realizing his misstep. He hadn't meant to bring the topic in that fashion. He had hoped to segue into it another way. However, he knew that since she had honed in on that particular word choice, it would be difficult to dissuade her. He reluctantly nodded and muttered, "There are more. At least five more."

"And are they all similar to the one we encountered earlier?"

He pursed his lips and then slowly shook his head. "No. They're all… different in some ways."

"How are they different," she pressed.

He dropped his shoulders and let out a quiet breath before slowly continuing. "From what I understand, they all have different roles. Some of them seem to be for utility, while others are for infiltration."

"So you're saying that they've infiltrated the military," she said, her tone implying a statement rather than a question.

"Yes," he replied as his eyes slowly wandered up and locked with hers. "They've infiltrated military command." She leaned forward and steepled her fingers, watching him intently. She was expecting him to go on and _tell_ her who or what was involved.

Edward swallowed hard, the uncertainty of what her reaction would be suspending him there in that moment. However, something inside of him told him that in some way she already knew. From what he had heard and gathered, General Armstrong was far from dim. He knew that she was a strategist, a planner. Always five steps or more ahead of her opponent. Just like Mustang had been…

It was likely she had already pieced it all together given what he had told her and what she had observed on her own. She knew that 'Mustang' was not acting as he normally would in her presence. What those traits were, however, he did not know. All he knew was that she had detected it, and wanted answers.

Her lips formed a thin line and she began to tap the tip of one finger against the other, impatient with his stalled response.

He sucked in a deep breath and exhaled slowly before his eyes returned to hers and he uttered, "'Mustang'… He's one of them. Both he and Lieutenant Hawkeye were taken by them."

The General's brows knitted together and she shot him a critical glare. "Lieutenant _Riza_ Hawkeye?" When Edward bobbed his head to clarify, she added, "And Roy Mustang… Are Homunculi," her eyes shining with the faintest hints of both amusement and disbelief.

Balling his hands into fists, Edward held firm to his reveal said, "I know that it seems crazy, but I need you to trust me. I—"

Without looking away from Edward, General Armstrong cut him off and uttered, "Warrant Officer Falman."

Hearing her commanding tone, the grey-haired officer took a nervous step forward and saluted. "Yes, sir?"

"Is what the boy says true? Are both Roy Mustang and Riza Hawkeye artificial beings? Or 'Homunculi' as he calls them?"

Falman hesitated, likely remembering the repercussions the 'General' had laid out before fragmenting the team. He cast his glance toward Edward, seeking his guidance.

Edward regretted General Armstrong dragging Falman into the matter, but at that point any confirmation they could get was crucial. Especially since the General's keen intelligence would have likely gotten her the answer at some point. And if they were the ones that could give her the information she needed, then perhaps they would be able to work together with her to save not just their families, but the General and Lieutenant as well.

Hoping that he conveyed those thoughts to the Warrant Officer, Edward gave him a firm nod to direct him to continue.

Receiving Edward's signal, the Falman stood up straighter, dropped his salute and confirmed, "Yes, sir. I have seen it with my own eyes."

"I see," she mused as she looked at him out of the corner of her eye. "Then what was your reason for keeping the matter a secret when I asked you before, Warrant Officer?"

Upon hearing her accusation, Falman began to falter. "Well, sir, I—"

"He didn't have a choice," Edward chimed in, drawing General Armstrong's attention back to him. "None of us were given a choice except to comply."

"Is that so," she asked as she raised her brows. "And what means did they employ in order to get you to comply? It's obvious that it must be something _very_ dear to you; something you would lie to a higher authority about despite their threats.

"For example… Is it a hostage, perhaps?"

A hostage… When she put it that way, Edward supposed that that is what they were… All of them. Bowing his head, he replied, "Because they have the Colonel and the Lieutenant, they know all of our weaknesses, including mine." Balling his fists tighter and tighter until his flesh hand had begun to turn white, he muttered, "They have my younger brother and my childhood friend." Gesturing to Falman, he added, "And they threatened his brother and family."

"So what you're telling me," she itemized, "Is that the military has been creating artificial beings using alchemy and has strategically placed them in the military's higher command? And in order to remain undetected, they have taken hostages to keep anyone that does know to remain quiet."

"Yes," Edward replied. "That's exactly what they're doing."

"Then where are the real Roy Mustang and Riza Hawkeye? Have they been killed and replaced?"

"No," Edward answered quickly as he shook his head. "They're still alive and they're still fighting."

A look of confusion briefly crossed her face before she recomposed herself and asked, "What exactly does that mean?"

"Well," he said as his stomach began to knot. "It's a bit complicated…-"

"I have time," came her short reply. "Tell me where they are then and how they're still alive."

"That's why it's complicated," Edward explained. "Because they're still there. Those are their bodies the Homunculi are using." When she raised a dubious brow, he backpedaled and said, "Homunculi are artificial humans that have a Philosopher's Stone at their core."

"A Philosopher's Stone," Major Miles echoed. "I was led to believe that those were a part of myth and legend."

Edward shook his head. "They aren't. My brother and I finally found one… And figured out what they're made of." Turning his attention back to the General, he continued, "A Philosopher's Stone is a collection of souls that have been concentrated together in one of two forms: a solid stone or a viscous liquid. These Stones have a sort of… essence to them, or rather a personality.

"And we figured out that if one that is in a liquid state is taken and dispensed into the vein of a human being, then the personality can spread to virtually every part of that person and can take over."

"So what you're telling me," she said as she sat back and crossed her arms, "Is that if these Stones which make up the Homunculi are placed in someone, they become a Homunculus themselves?"

Edward flinched and then nodded. When she said it like that, it almost seemed like science fiction, something out of a story. "I know it seems crazy," he began, "But—"

"I believe you," she replied. His face must have immediately formed an expression that conveyed his shock because she added, "After seeing that abomination and what it's capable of, nothing will surprise me anymore.

"But now I want to know the statuses of Mustang and Hawkeye. What can be done with them knowing what we know now?"

"That's the thing," he answered. "I haven't figured out how to separate them yet."

The General leaned to one side and rested her elbow on the armrest and settled her chin on her fist. "Is that so? Then you don't know how to salvage them? It's unfortunate then, having to kill them. Especially Hawkeye who, as I remember, was a competent soldier—"

"There won't be any killing," Edward replied crudely. "They told me themselves that there was a way. And I'm going to find out how."

She quirked a brow and asked, "Then you'll hesitate when they kill one of their hostages? Or if they decide to turn on you?"

"They wouldn't do that," he shot back. When she narrowed her eyes, he lowered his tone. "They wouldn't do that… Not as long as we comply with them."

"And yet here you are revealing their secret to me," she observed. "So much for your 'compliance.'"

"That's because you backed me into a corner," Edward countered. "I didn't have a choice. Not without you turning to 'Mustang' after I wouldn't give you what you want and tipping him off about my behavior."

"So this is all about your brother and friend," she replied. "And keeping them safe…"

"Yes," he answered firmly. "And if telling you and asking you to keep this a secret is what it will take, then so be it."

"How do you know I won't go behind your back and tell them," she asked. "After all, you don't know nearly enough about me."

Edward paused, his eyes fixated on her impassive expression. Then, he exhaled slowly and said, "I guess I don't know. I can only go on what I've heard and what I know about the Armstrong name and its dedication to serving our country," he answered.

A small smile crept across her lips. "Fair enough," she mused. "But now I want to know how to piece it all together."

"Piece it together," he echoed.

"The Homunculi… Philosopher's Stones…And the seemingly rampant corruption in the military's highest command. And Mustang and Hawkeye being woven into it all… All of this must have some sort of meaning to it," General Armstrong stated.

"That's the thing I've been trying to piece together since I got here," Edward noted. "And after going down into the tunnel that Homunculus dug its way out of, I think I may have an idea." Looking back at Buccaneer, he asked, "Were you able to find a map of Amestris?"

"Yeah," the mountain of a man rumbled as he stepped over to Edward and reached into his jacket, producing a rolled up piece of parchment a few moments later.

When he handed it over, Edward got down on his knees and unrolled it, smoothing it out on the floor. Turning his glance toward Falman, he asked, "Would you still be able to recall those incidents we discussed earlier that resulted in major bloodshed?"

Falman walked over to him and stooped down beside Edward and nodded. "I can recall all of them," he affirmed.

"Great," Edward replied. "And would you happen to have a pen?" As the Officer dug into his pocket to find one, Edward saw the General shift and stand out of the corner of his eye. He watched as she crossed her arms and roamed over to them so that she looked over Edward's shoulder.

After Officer Falman handed him the pen, the older man said, "July 1558. The Riviere Incident," as he pointed to the exact location on the map.

Edward nodded and circled the spot, prompting Falman to continue listing the incidents. General Armstrong, Buccaneer, and Miles looked on, watching them intently as they worked, until Falman finished by saying, "And finally, 1914. The Liore riot. There were mass casualties."

Edward froze, stunned by the revelation. Jerking his head up, he said, "After I exposed the founder of the religion as a fraud, I immediately reported to Eastern headquarters, didn't I?"

"That's right. And the east area troops mobilized and stopped a riot before it began."

Edward knitted his brows together. "Then what happened? What went so horribly wrong?!"

Falman grimaced. "We lost jurisdiction of the site to the Central City troops that came later. The situation only exploded after the troops forced their way in and the eastern region troops were dismissed. I heard they just observed the disturbance and did nothing to stop it."

"Damn it," Edward cried as he dropped the pen and raised his hand to his forehead. "Damn it. Why would they—"

"Keep working on that map, Fullmetal."

Whirling around to look up at General Armstrong, he watched as she nodded toward the Warrant Officer. "Taking it out on Falman won't get us anywhere. We don't have time to sit and watch you two work out your guilt. Especially if our friends from Central Command discover us convening here."

Though he was still in shock over Falman's reveal, Edward knew that the General was right. The sooner they completed their task, the sooner they could begin to work on their next step of the plan. Begrudgingly picking up the pen, he circled Liore. "Next," he muttered, "I'll connect each site." Feeling their eyes on him, he slowly drew lines between the areas… and watched as the hidden circle began to reveal itself.

And just like he had suspected, it was—

"How can this be," Falman uttered. "It's… Identical to the transmutation circle from Laboratory Number 5!"

"Wait," Buccaneer muttered, "Is that the circle that uses human lives to create the Philosopher's Stone? How many lives would be sacrificed if someone created a stone with a circle the size of our country?!"

How many indeed, Edward thought as he stared down at it. But the idea behind it… It just didn't seem like it was enough. "No," he murmured as he looked up from it. "There must be something more…" Something they weren't putting together.

"More? Like what," Falman asked. "What more could there possibly be?"

"Like," Edward began as Envy's words slowly returned to him. "Like… Us being 'candidates' for 'human sacrifice.' There has to be something more."

General Armstrong crouched down next to him and pointed at a spot on the map. When he followed her finger down to the area of 'Riviere,'she said, "The oldest is the Riviere incident of 1558. That's right after the founding of Amestris. They attacked Riviere, a neighboring nation, without first declaring war."

"Wait a second," Falman breathed as he slid the map over toward himself and stared down at it. After a few moments of silence, he gasped. "That means the military was involved in every one of these incidents! It was always either a coup d'etat or a civil war. And Liore was no different. Normally, the sect leader would have been killed and that would have been the end of it, but the Central City troops came and made an even bigger mess of it.

"This has been happening since the founding of this country!"

"In the beginning, Amestris's territory was small, but it expanded its borders by conquering the smaller countries around it," General Armstrong noted. "I seized just enough land to create this circle." She laughed bitterly. "How very efficient of them. They didn't try to accomplish their goal with this country, after all. Instead, they created it from scratch in order to accomplish their goal."

"General," Buccaneer replied warily. "You're saying the only reason this country accepted a military dictatorship was to serve this plot."

She sneered. "Quite the rational strategy. It seems that everything went according to their plan."

"It's like it's all a big game to them," Falman breathed.

Edward clenched his jaw and balled his hands into fists. "This must mean that Lieutenant Colonel Hughes had it all figured out. He must have seen the transmutation circle for the Philosopher's Stone before he died. Since he worked in the court-martial office, it was probably pretty easy for him to research all of these military campaigns. So when he got to the part where he discovered why the country was founded, he…" The pen in Edward's hand snapped in half as he tightened his grip.

Hughes had died… Because he _knew_.

"I don't like this," General Armstrong seethed as she stared down at the map. "Because from what I see, the next place to see bloodshed, or rather the only place left, is Fort Briggs."

Edward jerked his head up to look at her before turning his attention toward the spot on the map she had pointed too. After connecting the dots in his head, he realized her suspicions… and confirmed them.

"Is that why those bastards are here," she snarled. "What are they planning to use my fortress for?"

"I… I don't know," Edward said as he raised his eyes to meet hers again. "But now you know everything that I do."

The General clenched her fists. "So that bastard Homunculus is using Mustang's body against my fortress… Against our nation?!"

"Both of them are," Edward corrected as he got to his feet.

"Right," she replied bluntly as she crossed her arms again.

When Edward made a move to respond, Major Miles stepped forward and showed her the inside of his pocket watch. He watched as her face twisted and formed a scowl. As the Major dipped his head and stepped away, General Armstrong turned her attention to Edward again and growled, "We've been here for nearly a half-hour at this point. Any longer and they might question my absence."

Edward knitted his brows together. "Who would," he asked slowly.

"It turns out General Raven had been slinking around sometime last night before the monster attacked us. One of my men encountered him wandering down near one of the gates and promptly escorted him back to his room. And if he or the Homunculus have any ounce of suspicion, then it's likely they may be walking around even at this hour."

Edward gulped, remembering his encounter with 'Mustang' earlier that evening. If he visited Edward's room again and found that he wasn't there, there was no telling what he would do.

"So for now I want you to digest what you've discovered, just as I plan to," she continued. "You've given me a lot to consider now between the existence of the Homunculi and the supposed corruption of our government."

"And after you've thought about it," Edward asked carefully.

"Then I will proceed accordingly," she answered. "And do what is best for our nation and for Fort Briggs."

"And what if it doesn't align with the safety of our families," Edward pressed cautiously. "Then what?"

"I can assure you that it will be for the best," she replied.

Edward paused, unable to read her expression. On one hand he wanted to put his trust in her, but on the other… On the other he knew that like Mustang, she was a strategist. From what he gathered she was the epitome of the northern mantra: Survival of the fittest.

"Major Miles, escort Fullmetal back to his dorm undetected," she ordered, drawing Edward out of his thoughts.

"Yes, sir," the Major replied as he threw her a crisp salute and placed a hand on his shoulder.

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Officer Falman prepare himself to move as well, but was surprised when she spoke again. "Officer Falman, I want you to remain here for the moment."

"Y-yes, sir," he replied as he too saluted.

"Fullmetal."

Edward turned his attention back to her and caught her eye. Seeing that she had his attention, she said, "I want you to think long and hard about what we discussed here tonight. About both the circle and the repercussions of working with the Homunculi. Regardless of what you think you believe, you are viewing the situation through rose-colored glasses. Because no matter how you look at it, you have allowed monsters to gain the upper hand on you and whether you like it or not, you have played into their hands.

"Think long and hard about it, Fullmetal Alchemist. Because when it comes down to it, you may very well need to make a decision you won't want to."

Before he could move to answer, Major Miles maneuvered him around and toward the door. But while the conversation there was over, the turmoil it caused and consequences of it were far from settled. But despite receiving her word, Edward no longer knew what to think. Her rhetoric had been hopeful, assuring, until she told him the same thing that every other person had told him: That if it came down to it, he would have to make the decision to end their lives.

* * *

After Miles had escorted Edward Elric out, Buccaneer looked down at his General and murmured, "General," she emerged from her thoughts to look up at him. "Do you truly believe what the boy told you?"

"Of course I do," she replied matter-of-factly. "Didn't you see how terrified he was?" When he opened his mouth to respond, she continued, "Someone like him wouldn't make up stories just because. And besides, I had already confirmed it with my own eyes long before this. The Mustang I met the other day was not the same one I had the displeasure of knowing before. Leading me to believe that his story is, indeed, true."

"Then if what he says is true," Buccaneer replied as he felt a bead of sweat form on his brow, "Then what do you think we should do to proceed?"

"Oh," she replied as the ghost of a smile graced her lips. "I know how we will be moving forward at this point…"

* * *

Dabbing the sweat from his brow, Vato Falman cautiously snuck into the fort's phone room and seated himself at the booth furthest from the door. Hurriedly fishing out a small piece of paper from his pocket, he quickly unfolded it and smoothed it out on the table in front of him. Pausing to look up and around for any signs of movement, he held his breath and waited. But when nothing stirred, he turned back to his work and picked up the phone's receiver, hastily typing the phone number on the sheet of paper into the phone's main console, his finger shaking from the mix of fear and adrenaline.

He inhaled deeply as he pressed the receiver to his ear. When it began to ring, he slowly exhaled and closed his eyes, telling himself that he had anticipated the moment… Just not as soon as he had thought.

Just as he began to exhale and release his nerves again, the receiver clicked and a woman's voice came on over the line. " _Hello_?"

"I apologize for calling so late… _Darling_ ," Vato said into the receiver, stumbling over the foreign term he had been instructed to use. "But I had some incredible news to share and I just couldn't wait to tell you."

" _Oh,_ Vato," the woman on the other end of the line squealed. " _It's okay, Honey! What is it you want to tell me_?"

"Well," he whispered as he scanned the area around him once more, confirming that there was no one else around, "I think I found a way that we could be together…"

* * *

After coughing laboriously into the hand cupped over her mouth, Izumi Curtis reluctantly pulled it away and looked down into it, seeing that her palm was covered in a fine film of bright red blood. She grimaced as she slowly rose to her feet and shuffled over to the other side of the tiny makeshift kitchen she was seated in, grabbing a napkin off of the counter in order to wipe away its excess.

Taking a few steps into the center of the room, she stopped beneath the single light bulb that was suspended from the ceiling and began to wipe at the palm of her hand. It was difficult visualizing it despite the light being overhead, however. The small home they had been graciously invited into was without most of its utilities and the power there was questionable. Still, she was thankful that the Ishvalan refugees that had formed the small Northern community had been so affable toward them, especially considering their 'party' consisted of two alchemists and a former Amestrian soldier. She was confident, however, that Scar's presence and Dr. Marcoh's reputation was what had really saved them when they stumbled into the town late one night…

"Mrs. Curtis?"

Surprised by the voice, she whirled around to see Dr. Marcoh standing in the doorway, eyeing her worriedly. Offering him a smile of reassurance, she said, "I apologize if I woke you, Dr. Marcoh. I was having difficulties sleeping and thought it best to remove myself from the bedrooms."

"Is it happening again," he asked as his eyes slowly wandered down to the blood-caked tissue in her hand.

"It's nothing to worry about," she replied as she wiped the corner of her lip with the napkin. "It acts up occasionally when it's cold."

"You shouldn't even be doing that to begin with," Dr. Marcoh replied as he pulled out one of the table's chairs and sat down in it.

"I know," she mused as she lowered herself into the chair opposite him and rested her hand on her stomach. "But this is the price I paid for committing the taboo."

"If you allow me to heal you, I might be able to—"

Izumi raised her hand and silenced him. "I appreciate the gesture, Doctor. But this is the weight of my sin and I must bear it myself. And besides," she added quietly as she stared down at the reddened tissue, "Now that I know what goes into a Philosopher's Stone, I wouldn't feel right using it on myself."

The doctor grimaced and lowered his eyes. "You're right. I apologize."

Looking back up at him, she offered a small smile and said, "There's nothing for you to apologize about, Dr. Marcoh. Like I said before - this is my burden to bear. So please do not sorry yourself over me. Instead, learn from my mistake so that you do not make the same in the future."

Dr. Marcoh sadly returned her smile and dipped his head.

"So," she continued, segueing into another train of thought, "Have you been able to decipher Scar's brother's notes?"

The doctor frowned and slowly shook his head. "Unfortunately he coded them very well. It's going to take some time to sort out."

"I see," she replied. "I wish I could be of more help. I rarely bookkeep and have few notes myself, and even fewer coded ones."

"It's alright," Marcoh responded. "We'll figure them out eventually."

Izumi nodded. "Especially if we'll be here for an extended period of time."

Dr. Marcoh's brows rose. "You haven't heard anything from Briggs?"

Izumi shook her head. "Our informant hasn't heard from Officer Falman yet."

"I'm sure that means nothing has happened," Marcoh offered.

Izumi attempted a smile. "I hope so. I—" The sound of a loud knock on the kitchen door interrupted Izumi. She shot Dr. Marcoh a perplexed glance to see that he mirrored her confusion before she stole a look at the clock. It was well past midnight. Who could possibly…-

Another abrupt knock drew her attention away from the clock and back to the door. Pushing her chair away from the table, Izumi rose to her feet and wandered over to the door. Grasping its flimsy handle, she cautiously pulled it open and peered outside. When she saw who it was, she pushed it open and said, "It's you. Please, come in."

The young, blonde-haired woman, donning a thick hooded parka and wool scarf, stomped the snow off of her boots on the stone step before stepping into the kitchen. "I'm sorry to have come so late," she muttered as she unwrapped the scarf from around her neck. "But I figured I should tell you now rather than later." Pushing back her hood, the young informant of Madame Christmas said, "I heard from Officer Falman just now. And he gave me some very important intel."

* * *

The next morning Edward was aroused from his near restless sleep by a few well-placed knocks on his dorm room's door. Sitting up in his bed, he listened as the door was unlocked and the hatch opened, revealing Major Miles.

The soldier threw him a quick salute and said, "General Armstrong has requested we convene with Generals Raven and Mustang in front of the hole the monster used to gain entrance to the fort in approximately fifteen minutes."

Edward scanned the Major's face, noting silently that he seemed more on edge than he had been previously, as if he were worried about the meeting that was to come. Edward couldn't help but feel his stomach twist uncomfortably in response, wondering what they would possibly want to discuss there.

Knowing that he only had a minute or so to get ready, however, he pushed the thoughts away and nodded.

Understanding Edward's signal, Miles dipped his head before he stepped out of the room and closed the door.

Edward slid off of the bed and padded over to his suitcase, pulling out his black tank top and pants and signature red coat. He continued to push the thoughts back, not allowing himself to become uneasy before the fact. For all he knew, it could just be the presence of the two Generals that was causing Major Miles to act that way, especially now that he knew what Mustang really was…

Once he had finished getting dressed, he jogged over to the door and pushed it open to see that the Major had stationed himself to its side, standing with his back against the wall. When their eyes met, the Major nodded and silently beckoned for Edward to follow, and Edward complied.

The two of them walked in silence as they wove through the first of fort's hallways, steadily making their way down into the belly of the fortress. But after watching the Major's back for a few moments, Edward felt the uneasiness begin to rise in his guy again. And if he was going to get any information in advance, then would be the only time. Just as he opened his mouth to ask, however, the Major interrupted him and said, "It's best that we communicate as little as possible," promptly forcing Edward to clench his jaw shut.

The Major turned another corner and Edward saw the light of the massive boiler room come into view at the other end. Miles quickened his pace, causing Edward to accelerate as well. When they reached the top of the stairs that led down into the area, he looked over the edge and toward the area, seeing that the Generals, Buccaneer, and Falman were already there.

Edward also noticed too that the men that had been working on the fort's abrasion had been removed and segregated into areas around the boilers toward either end of the massive area. So whatever it was, General Armstrong did not want anyone other than them to see or hear what they were discussing.

As they made their way toward the group, Edward immediately felt a set of cold, calculating eyes on him. And, unfortunately, they did not belong to the General he had hoped they would. Willing himself to raise his head, his eyes locked with the obsidian eyes that belonged to 'Mustang.' Swallowing back the apprehensiveness he felt, he slowed and came to a stop beside Miles, watching as General Raven stepped toward General Armstrong.

"So have you considered our proposal," Raven asked eagerly as he rubbed his hands together and looked down at the hole the men had begun to fill, the cement that had spilled onto the edge still wet…

"I have," General Armstrong replied as she too looked down at the cement. Drawing her blade, she grazed the tip over the wet pavement to check its progress before she lifted it and wiped it off with the glove on her hand. "But before that I'm going to give you one last chance to disclose what you really know to me. It's my right to know given this is my domain."

Both 'Mustang' and Raven's brows rose. Taking a step forward, 'Mustang' tried to diffuse her concerns by saying, "I know the concept is a bit complex, General. But you have to believe that it is not a threat to either Fort Briggs or Amestris."

"Oh, I know," she answered. "I'm giving you two the chance to tell me what _it_ really is."

Edward jerked his head up and stared at the back of the General's head, paralyzed for fear of what she would say next. There was no way… She wouldn't betray them… right?

"I thought we disclosed that with you," General Raven replied curiously. "Like we said before, it's a chimera. Nothing but the product of a crossing between an ape and a tunneling rat."

"Wrong," she answered confidently before turning back to 'Mustang.' "And I have the word of your subordinate to fall back on."

Edward's heart stopped when he felt the Homunculus's eyes slide over to him, boring into with a level of intensity he had never felt before that. She was… She was going to betray them!

"I know now that it is not, in fact, a chimera," she announced. "And that it's an artificial human created using alchemy."

For a moment 'Mustang's' eyes left Edward to hone in on General Armstrong. Raven gave her a short and loud laugh. "Don't be ridiculous, General Armstrong. You know that the practice of transmuting an artificial human is strictly against the law."

"It is," she confirmed. "But that didn't stop the military from doing it anyways, right?"

"General Armstrong," 'Mustang' said as he stepped forward and raised his arms slightly, his palms up as a sign of innocence. "Surely you would not think the military would do such a thing."

"That's where you're wrong," she replied in a self-satisfied tone. "In fact, I know that there is not only one of them up here… But two." Then, before any of them could react, she thrust her blade up and drove it through the back of 'Mustang's' hand. "With the second standing right in front of us."

* * *

When Alphonse and Winry arrived at Central Command that morning, they were surprised to see that neither Zampano nor Jerso were there to greet them in the Colonel's former office. After they had waited for a while and still saw no signs of the pair, the two of them began to grow anxious, wondering what could have become of their 'babysitters.'

"Maybe they're in the Fuhrer's office," Alphonse suggested as he looked up at the clock, seeing that it was already nine-thirty in the morning.

"Maybe," Winry replied reluctantly as she too looked at the clock.

"We should probably go and check," he offered as he took a step toward the door. "Because the very last thing we need is to be accused of skipping."

"Yeah… Right," she answered unenthusiastically as she followed after him.

Looking over his shoulder at her, he said, "Maybe we'll get there and we'll be given the rest of the day off. Then we can start making that chocolate cake for Mrs. Bradley and Selim," in the hopes he could ease both of their growing concerns.

"Yeah, maybe we could," she answered as she attempted to smile.

Making their way out into the hallway, they began to venture toward the Fuhrer's office. "Oh! And maybe we could make an apple pie for Mrs. Hughes," Alphonse added. "I bet she and Elicia would love that!"

Her smile grew. "We could probably do that too. Maybe drop it off for them after dinner time if we have enough time to make it."

"Yeah," Alphonse replied cheerfully as they stopped outside of the Fuhrer's office and raised his fist and knocked. Pushing it open, he turned his attention to the assistant's desk… only to find that it was empty. "Hello," he called as they stepped into the room. "Is anyone here?"

Winry frowned as her eyes scanned the room. "Maybe the Lieutenant didn't come in today?"

"It's possible," Alphonse supposed as he wandered toward the double doors that led to the office where the Fuhrer would reside. "But let's check to see if they're in here." Raising his fist again, he knocked on the door and paused to listen. But when no one answered, he pushed the door open and stepped inside, with Winry on his heels.

Like the office they had walked out of, the Fuhrer's office was empty as well, looking as though no one had been in it since the previous day. Alphonse scanned the room for any signs that would say otherwise and was about to agree with what the evidence suggested, when something caught his eye. Whirling back around, he saw that the bookcase in the corner had been pushed away from the wall, revealing what appeared to be a hole behind it.

Walking over to it, he shoved it out of the way and discovered that the 'hole' was actually a doorway that immediately led to a series of torch-lined steps. Peering down into it, he saw that it wound around itself as it descended deeper and deeper downward, until the steps altogether vanished into the darkness below. When Winry stopped beside him, the two of them silently stared down into the darkness, both of them at a loss for words.

He remembered when Lieutenant Hawkeye had pointed out that the perimeter that she had mapped out back when they had been beneath Laboratory Three ran just to the edge of the Fuhrer's office, but he had never expected that there would be something physically connecting the two…

He stiffened when he heard a faint sound reach up from the darkness. Leaning forward, Alphonse strained to listen, hoping the sound would replicate itself. And when it did, Winry gasped beside him.

"Did you hear that," she whispered as she covered her mouth with her hand and stared down into the darkness.

Alphonse had heard it alright. The sound of someone crying out for help. While difficult to place completely, he couldn't help but think that it had some familiarity to its tone. A familiarity that he placed with the new Fuhrer-elect, General Grumman. When he took a step toward the staircase, Winry wrapped her arms around his arm and pulled him back.

"You can't go down there, Al," she said. "You don't know who or what that could be."

"But there's a chance that it might be the General," Al contended. "It's possible that he found this and wandered down himself."

"Then we should go get someone," Winry argued.

"No," Alphonse replied as he shook his head. "We can't. Winry, if anyone that isn't supposed to find out about the Homunculi or what the government is doing, then there's no telling what they could do.

"I'll go down by myself," he continued as he turned his sights toward the staircase again. "And I'll just look around for a little bit."

"Then I'm going with you," she said as she took a step forward, keeping her tight grip on his arm.

Again Alphonse shook his head. "It won't be safe for you to go—"

"Then why should you go alone," she countered.

"Because," he began, "No matter what, they need Brother and me for something. And they're making sure we stay alive. Nothing will happen to me down there." Winry's grip on his arm loosened slightly as he continued, "You're safest up here, acting like you don't know what's happening."

He could tell by the look in her eyes that she knew he was right. That this was the only way they could assure the safety of all three of them. So when her grip loosened entirely and her arms dropped to her side, he said, "I promise to be back in thirty minutes. Try to close this behind you and just wait here. If anyone asks what you're doing, just say that you're waiting for Jerso and Zampano, okay?"

"Okay," she replied half-heartedly. But just as he stepped down onto the first step, she said, "Just please… Be careful, Al."

Turning to look back at her, he reassured, "I will, Winry. I promise." Shifting back around, he walked down the remainder of the steps before getting to a landing. Casting her one last glance, he gave her a comforting wave.

She reluctantly returned it, her worried expression never leaving her face as she stepped back and behind the bookcase.

Alphonse realized that she had every right to worry, especially since the last time he had ventured off alone he had returned to her missing his jaw and bits of his armor. But this time, silently told himself as the bookshelf rattled, he would return in one piece.

He watched as it shifted and slowly rolled back over the opening until it closed completely, leaving him alone in the dimly lit stairwell. When he heard her move away from it, he turned back toward the staircase and slowly began to wander down it, and into the catacombs that ran beneath Central Command.

* * *

"Hello," Alphonse called again as he rounded another corner in the seemingly endless underground labyrinth beneath Central Command. He paused to listen, growing disheartened that he was not able to elicit another signal from General Grumman. Trying to not feel too frustrated, Alphonse told himself that he would search for five more minutes before he would turn around and navigate his way back to the surface.

The General must have sensed his resolve, because not more than a moment later he called out, "Hello? Is someone there?"

"General Grumman," Alphonse cried as he turned around and headed toward the cry. "I'm here, just hold on—"

He came to an immediate stop when he rounded the corner as a shiver ran straight through his soul. Rather than the old man he had expected to see, he was instead greeted by Winry… And Lust, the latter having one hand clapped over the former's mouth, pressing the back of her head against her shoulder while her other hand was raised to Winry's neck level, the tip of a single elongated spear pressed against his friend's skin.

"So glad you could make it," Lust purred as the corners of her lips curled upward. "I was beginning to think I had made you run in circles for too long."

"How did you—" He stopped when General Grumman's cry cut him off.

Seeing his confusion, Lust sidestepped to reveal an older record player behind her, the vinyl disc on it still slowly rotating around. When it began to make another noise, she nudged the stand it was on, causing it to shake before slipping off and breaking on the uneven cobblestone floor. No doubt seeing his realization, she smirked and said, "Clever, right? And all it required was a voice recorder and a silent phone call to a very confused Grumman's hotel room."

When Alphonse took a step forward, Winry began to struggle against Lust's grip. Irritated by her hostage's sudden attempt at escape, Lust jerked her head back against her shoulder and pressed the talon further into her skin.

"Winry," Alphonse cried.

"I have to admit that I'm impressed by her willingness to follow your instructions, especially considering what had happened the last time you went off on your own," she taunted, calling upon the Lieutenant's memories of his confrontation with the first Lust. "I found her standing guard in the Fuhrer's office."

"Let her go," he cried.

"Not until we have a little chat first."

Alphonse balled his gloves into fists. "I'll talk when you let Winry go," he demanded.

She clicked her tongue and shook her head. "I can't do that. You see, I need all the leverage I can get right now."

"What leverage _don't_ you have," Alphonse cried as he took another step forward. "You've taken everything from us! You've taken the Colonel and Lieutenant. You've split us up. You've kicked us while we're down. We've complied with every demand you've made!"

"And that's precisely why I intend to keep this compliance," she mused as the spear lengthened and dug into Winry's neck, producing a small trickle of blood as it penetrated her skin. "Because like I said, I need leverage.

"So tell me… Where have Dr. Marcoh and Scar gone?"

"What," Alphonse gasped, caught off guard by the question. When she raised a brow, waiting, he answered, "We've already told you. We don't—"

The spear extended slightly, eliciting a muffled cry from Winry as she grabbed Lust's wrist and tried to struggle away from her. The Homunculus narrowed her violet eyes toward him, the corner of her lip twitching upward as his soul-fire eyes flickered with panic. "Wrong answer," she replied. "Now, I'll only ask this once more. And your answer had better be truth."

If Alphonse had a heart, he was confident it would have burst from his chest at that very moment. They had told him that, no matter what, he could not give any indication that he knew the doctor's whereabouts, especially now that he, Scar, and Teacher were about to obtain Scar's brother's notes. Notes that could change the fate of Amestris as they knew it.

But Winry… He couldn't abandon her. She more than anyone else was an innocent bystander in this hellish situation, dragged in because of her devotion to his brother and him. But maybe… Maybe there was a way he could get to her. Keeping his eyes focused on the Homunculus, he mentally retraced his steps, trying to remember their surroundings.

The tunnel was narrow and completely closed in. While he couldn't remember how deep it was in relation to Central Headquarters, he had to keep in mind that disrupting it could lead to collapse. But the ground… Surely that wouldn't collapse on itself? He had to think of something to separate them. Something?!

"You'd better hurry." Drawn out from his mental turmoil, Alphonse looked back up at her. Seeing that she had his attention, she noted, "I can feel her jugular pulsating."

As the trail of blood that oozed from the wound became heavier, Alphonse felt his desperation skyrocket. The silent, desperate plea in Winry's eyes let him know that what the Homunculus said had been true, and now his fears were shifted toward whether or not she had actually penetrated the vessel.

For a moment the uncharacteristic thought of constructing a weapon crossed his mind, similar to what he had done when they had been confronted by the former Lust. But then he did not have the desire to use it, and even now he was reluctant to. Because regardless he was facing down Lust as she was now: housed in the body of Lieutenant Hawkeye. Despite the fact that it was the Homunculus he was talking to, his reluctance was stemming from the fact that she still had the same face as their friend. Still had traces of her character etched into her expression. And through it all, no matter what he tried to make himself believe, Alphonse could not shake the infinitesimal feeling that he would be attacking Lieutenant Hawkeye.

He decided at that very moment that they would instead escape. That they'd run until their legs could no longer carry them, until Winry's breaths could no longer maintain their pace. They would run to Rush Valley and Resembool and warn everyone if that was what it took. He silently apologized to his brother for not being able to hold out until he returned. But he would understand, right? Alphonse had been driven into a corner…

Holding firm with his resolve to flee with Winry, Alphonse raised his hands up to chest level and brought them together with a thunderous clap.

* * *

She knew the moment he had tried to contend with her that he would opt for the less violent route. Typical Alphonse Elric. Always the gentler of the two brothers. And in this case she assumed that it was his fear of harming the Lieutenant that factored into his decision. Still, his lack of producing a spear or weapon was hardly an issue, though it was slightly less appealing knowing that history had not, for once, repeated itself.

It was amusing watching both the boy's internal struggle and feeling the Lieutenant's, the latter frantically clawing against Lust's grasp in order to get to the surface. But even as the Lieutenant's cries and pleas for her to stop filled her mind, Lust still held firm and unwavering to her decision. Because one way or another, she would get what she needed… Even if it wasn't from him.

The Lieutenant lunged again, her desperation seeping into Lust's mouth and eyes in the form of rich iron and broken blood vessels. Shoving her host back, she watched as Alphonse finalized his decision.

In the end, he had elected to run.

By the time Alphonse's hands clapped together Lust's hand was already off of Winry's neck, spears extended and lethal. Using one calculated swing, she tore through the metal armor as if it had been made of butter. The movement had been so abrupt, so fast, that the boy's soul-fire eyes reflected his realization moments later, burning brighter than they ever had, before they dimmed and vanished as his armor body fractured and shattered.


	13. Chapter 13

**A/N:** _Thank you all so much for your patience! I wanted to get this updated and will start working on the next EtU right away. It's plotted but needs to be completely written out. I inserted a few Easter eggs from some 'Like Family' chapters, but the references have been explained enough if you haven't read it._

 _This chapter ended up being incredibly Riza-centric and dealt a lot with her relationship with the Elrics and Winry. I inserted a few headcanons in here as well, one being that Ed had a teenage boy crush on her one time (kind of like how kids sometimes crush on their teacher), and another being that Winry mentioned what kind of impact Riza had on her when they had first met. I hope you all enjoy, and per usual let me know if anyone seems OOC! Especially since I included a very brief bout of humor. Thank you all for the reviews, favorites, and follows! They mean the world!_

* * *

 _With a defeated sigh, Alphonse Elric sank down onto the ground and pulled his arm out the hole where his helmet would normally rest. One of the many negatives he had discovered with having the suit as his body was that the crevices where things could lodge were not scarce. Turning his attention toward his other arm, he tried again in vain to lower it, but discovered that the clockwork toy cat he had tried to stow in it had nestled itself even further into the junction between his arm and the hollow of his body._

 _He supposed he would just have to wait for his brother to return from his assignment with the Colonel…_

" _Alphonse?"_

 _Startled by the sudden voice, Alphonse turned his attention toward its source and saw that Lieutenant Hawkeye had entered the office he was sitting in, the older woman eyeing him curiously._

" _Oh! Hi Lieutenant," he replied in greeting as he raised his functioning arm._

" _Is something wrong," she asked as her eyes wandered over to the arm he had sticking straight out from his body._

 _With a sigh, he bent his body forward and said, "Well, do you remember that little kitten toy you won me at the festival in the spring?"_

" _I do, yes," she replied._

" _Well," he began slowly. "I wanted to bring it in with me today because I knew there wouldn't be too much to do without Brother here, but in the process of me trying to store it in my arm, it got stuck. And now I can't hear it ticking anymore and I'm afraid I broke it."_

" _Would you like me to take a look," she offered as she set her papers down on the desk nearest her and made her way toward him._

" _If you aren't too busy," Alphonse said. "I know the Colonel has you guys running around a lot this week."_

 _Lieutenant Hawkeye shook her head and smiled. "I always have time to help, Alphonse."_

 _Alphonse's shoulders sagged and he sighed with relief. "Thank you, Lieutenant Hawkeye." When she nodded in reply, he leaned forward again and pointed into his armor shell. "It's in the spot where my arm meets my body. It got wedged in the small crevice there."_

 _She gripped either side of the opening and was about to lean her upper body in, but paused and drew back. "Is this alright, Alphonse?"_

" _Oh, yeah," he replied, prompting her to lean back inside again. "Just make sure you don't touch my blood seal. If any part of it is rubbed off or broken, my soul won't be bound to this suit of armor anymore."_

 _Lieutenant Hawkeye hesitated for a moment and looked at the blood seal, silently scrutinizing her distance from it. Then she exaggerated her duck and moved as far away from it as she could as she maneuvered her way over to the arm in question._

 _He watched as she grasped the small clockwork toy and began to move it back and forth, loosening it from its jam. When it at last gave and she pulled it out, Alphonse's arm flopped down and knocked against his armor, causing Lieutenant Hawkeye to jump a beat later and bang her head against the inside of his armor._

 _Feeling –actually_ feeling _\- a slight tingle, Alphonse gasped and jerked away._

 _The Lieutenant quickly backed out of his armor and stared at him with wide eyes, horror painted across her face._

 _Alphonse quickly assessed the blood seal and found that it hadn't been damaged. Relieved, he turned his attention back to Lieutenant Hawkeye and said, "I'm sorry to scare you like that, Lieutenant."_

" _No, it's fine," she replied with a sigh of relief. "I'm just glad that you're okay."_

" _Of course," he squeaked as he rubbed the back of his helmet. "I'm fine."_

 _Her face softened and her shoulders relaxed. "I was afraid that I had damaged your blood seal."_

" _Oh," he said. "Thank you for your concern, but you missed it. I think your hair brushed against it and nothing else. It's intact."_

" _I'm glad," she answered, relieved._

 _If Alphonse could smile, he would have given her one, if not for additional reassurance. But instead he nodded his head, and that seemed to be enough for her. But when she turned away to pick up the clockwork cat that had caused the dilemma, his mind instantly turned to the question that had fixated itself there the moment his blood seal had been touched, wondering how it was possible he had been able to feel when it had been touched._

 _And now knowing full well that it_ was _possible, what would happen if it occurred a second time?_

* * *

With a satisfied smile, General Armstrong ripped the blade out of 'Mustang's' hand and took a step back as he raised and peered down at it, watching as a flurry of red sparks jumped out of and around the wound. Within moments the muscle fibers and skin cells regenerated and realigned themselves as they began to close off the wound.

When he looked up, his expression a mixture of both shock and rage, his intense gaze immediately fell on Edward.

Feeling a sense of alarm begin to rise within him, he took a hasty step back and away from the group of people. But he knew that no matter what he did, the glare would not leave him.

Because he knew.

'Mustang' knew that it had been him that had given General Armstrong the information. She had betrayed him. Betrayed _them_. So now, because of him and his foolish decision to trust her, Alphonse and Winry would be in danger.

And it was all his fault.

He took another step back, his fight or flight response reeling as another burst of adrenaline rushed through his veins. He wanted nothing more than to listen to it and run. To get back to Alphonse and Winry. To do anything and everything he could to ensure that they would be safe—

His running thoughts were interrupted when General Armstrong stepped in front of him, partially blocking his view of the Homunculus.

"So my intel appears to be true," she said calmly as the last layers of skin on the Homunculus's hand grew together and sealed the wound off.

"'Intel,'" the Homunculus hissed as it glared daggers at her.

Edward couldn't help but shudder, despite the fact that his view of 'Mustang' was blocked. Because even though it was, he still couldn't shake the feeling that he was staring straight through her and directly into him. He heard the Homunculus take a heavy step forward and he braced himself. But without warning, a movement to his left caused him to lose focus and turn his attention toward it for a moment.

"I," Falman stuttered as he slowly raised his hand to salute the Homunculus, "I'm sorry, sir."

The General turned his wrathful glare toward Falman and narrowed his eyes. "Care to elaborate, Warrant Officer," he growled.

But before the officer could stammer out a response, General Armstrong stretched her arm out in its path and said, "I promised him the safety of his brother's family and a hefty promotion in exchange for the truth, which he gladly accepted." 'Mustang's' eyes widened upon hearing her revelation. Unfazed, she continued, "I've already put in the request. Starting today he is directly under my command as my personal assistant."

The corner of the Homunculus's lip twitched upward, as if attempting to suppress an amused smile. "Do you honestly think that hiding someone behind a newly assigned rank is going to excuse them from disobeying a direct order from a superior officer?"

General Armstrong folded her arms over her chest and replied, "No rules were broken, 'Mustang.' I believe you are forgetting that I still hold the rank of a Major General, whereas you are holding the title 'Brigadier.' Major Falman made no error in judgment. He did exactly as he was instructed. I asked him to tell me the truth and he complied, and in turn I offered him sanctuary."

"Is that so," the Homunculus sneered as his eyes wandered back toward Edward.

"Yes," the General affirmed. "And while you're at it you can stop glaring at your other subordinate. He knew nothing of the situation—"

"Then why is he here," the Homunculus growled.

"Tch," General Armstrong countered with distaste, "Do you honestly think I'd be stupid enough to leave him locked in his room? I know full well that you would demand to know why he wasn't here if he hadn't been."

Before 'Mustang' could counter, General Raven intervened, raising his hands in a sign of peace as he stepped forward to separate the two. "I'm sure you have plenty of questions, General. We would be more than happy to answer them for you."

"Please," she retorted as she raised her blade and wiped it off with her gloved hand before re-sheathing it.

The older General smiled beneath his salt-and-pepper beard and then gestured away from the group. "Why don't we discuss this in a more… private setting?"

"Yes… Let's," she agreed and motioned for her men to follow. Her path was blocked, however, when 'Mustang' stretched out his arm in front of her. She stopped just before his arm and glared at the lower-ranking General out of the corner of her eye.

Then, much to their surprise, his face softened and he lowered his arm, even going so far as to offer her a small, almost Mustang-like smile. Though while his face may have conveyed a sense of accord, his dark eyes more sinister intentions; remaining as cold and dark as they had been before. Edward felt the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end.

"For the sake of everyone involved, I humbly suggest that only the three of us convene alone," he cautioned ominously.

The woman General stiffened and Edward could have sworn that she had growled under her breath. But then she squared her shoulders and, without looking back at the men she commanded, barked, "Captain!" Buccaneer straightened himself and saluted. "I want you to take Major Falman down to the stockade for safe keeping. Position one of the Central soldiers from their envoy there in addition to yourself if you must."

"Yes, sir," the mountainous man complied, putting a hand on Falman's shoulder to steer him away.

"And Major," she continued, focusing on Miles. "I want you to take Fullmetal back to his room and make sure that he remains there until our meeting adjourns."

"Yes, sir," Miles answered with a crisp salute.

"Good," she muttered as she turned her focus back to the two Generals in front of her, taking a few steps forward to part them as she headed toward the the staircase that led into the center of Briggs.

Edward jumped slightly when Miles put a hand on his shoulder, though he kept his attention on the trio as Armstrong and Raven began to trek away from them. His eye was immediately drawn to the third member of the party, whom had hesitated, and his heart nearly dropped into his stomach.

'Mustang's' unwavering glare was now boring into him, unrelenting and scathing. It didn't matter at that point what General Armstrong would say to try and appease them, if that was even what she was going to do. Because no matter what, he knew. He knew that Edward had been involved. And now all he was doing was entertaining them until the right moment.

A slight clanking noise caught his attention and momentarily drew his eyes away from the glaring Homunculus and down toward its source. His chest tightened and he felt droplets of sweat form on his brow when he realized that it was the sound of his metal fingers tapping together.

He hadn't realized that he had been shaking…

A gentle squeeze on his shoulder pulled him out of it long enough for him to look back up at Miles before he jerked his head around to locate the Homunculus again. But by then he had turned away and had begun to follow after Generals Armstrong and Raven, leaving Edward with a pounding heart and an unadultered sense of fear.

* * *

Izumi sighed as she once again as she angled her body away from the bitter cold wind and raised the crumbled piece of paper to her face, silently hoping that something would make sense the fifth time she had consulted it. Instead only the same few numbers and coordinates remained. She had never been one to map and she silently regretted not having paid attention to the skill when she was younger. However, standing around and brooding about it wasn't going to change that fact either.

Stuffing the coordinates back into her coat pocket, she hugged her jacket tighter and began to trudge through the previous night's fresh layer of snow.

"So you've decided to try and find the tunnel system?"

Izumi almost jumped when she heard the voice. Whirling around, she saw that she was no longer alone.

"Have you been following me this entire time," she called as the Ishvalan known as 'Scar' continued to make his way toward her.

"Long enough to discern where you are headed," he returned as he stopped a few paces from her.

The corner of Izumi's lip twitched. "Are you going to ask that I turn back?"

Scar shook his head and folded his arms tightly over his chest. "I have no say in what you do. I only followed to warm you of the dangers this trek may entail."

She relaxed slightly and shook her head. "I appreciate your concern, but it won't lead to anything like that." When his brows lifted ever so slightly in response, she explained, "I am respecting the boundaries they have set for the sake of Edward and Alphonse, but doing so on my terms. By locating the tunnel that supposedly runs beneath and near Briggs I am ensuring that I have some say in the matter, even if they don't know it.

"But," she continued as she turned her gaze toward the pocket of trees they were heading toward. "If I catch wind of something happening, then I can at least use that underground system to get to Edward."

"Your devotion to your pupil is admirable," Scar admitted as he continued along behind her. "Though poorly distributed."

Izumi stopped in her tracks and turned to look back over her shoulder and toward the Ishvalan man, whose expression remained as impassive as before.

Seeing the confusion on her face, he elaborated, "You clearly hold the boy in high regard, but yet you despise the very military he has resigned himself to. And in addition," he added as his face darkened, "You have given him your word that you would assist him in recovering to people you have deemed murderers."

Izumi flinched as his words once again reminded her of her former pupil's resolve.

"Why is it you have resigned yourself to helping those you despise?"

* * *

" _So," Izumi muttered as she folded her arms across her chest and eyed the two boys seated across from her. "What did the military offer you that was enticing enough that you would stoop so low as to join their ranks?" She saw Alphonse visibly flinch while Edward glanced down at his lap for a few moments, his lips twisting as her question rattled around in his mind. She did not regret her harsh delivery, however, because if there was one thing they had known, it was her deep dislike for the military and what it stood for. Especially when it came to the utilization of their alchemists._

 _When Edward's golden eyes finally wandered up to meet hers, she was somewhat surprised to see that they were set aglow, radiating with an almost fiery passion._

" _They offered us the opportunity to research the Philosopher's Stone in order to get our bodies back," the elder Elric explained. "They had the means and we had the capabilities they needed in order to meet on that middle ground."_

 _She lifted a brow in response. "Did you realize the moment they gave you your watch and your codename that you were completely under their jurisdiction? That at any given moment they could call upon you to fight in a war or take a life?"_

 _Edward's face scrunched with beneath her scrutinizing words, though he did not immediately fire back a response like she had initially thought. Instead, he slowly nodded his head in agreement. "I was completely in the know with their intentions at the time," he answered. "That it would be entirely possible that they'd call on me to fight in a war or even take a life…"_

 _Izumi found herself unable to mask the mix of shock and disgust she felt well up inside of her, knowing full well that it was etched across her face clear as day. She had honestly thought she had taught the boys better. Regarding both human transmutation and about the pertinent value each life possessed. And yet they still went behind her back and acted on their own selfish desires, losing their bodies and their free wills. As she opened her mouth to stop him right then and there, he said something that caused her to hesitate._

" _The military told me it would be entirely possible," he elaborated, "But they told me that they would do everything in their power to make sure that I wouldn't be used as a weapon or tool."_

 _Her brows knitted together in confusion. "'They,'" she repeated back._

 _Edward nodded before he continued. "When I joined, I was put under the command of Colonel Roy Mustang, the alchemist that discovered us. He and Lieutenant Hawkeye—" He paused for a moment and then shook his head, "Hell, his entire team said that they would do whatever it took to make sure that our priorities were put first. Even if that meant bending the rules in order to prevent such a thing from happening."_

 _The name 'Mustang' sounded vaguely familiar… Leaning back in her seat, her interest about the names she had heard now piqued, Izumi pressed, "Tell me more about these 'Mustang' and 'Hawkeye' characters since they seem to be the ones you are most familiar with."_

" _Mustang is a State Alchemist, a Colonel to be precise," Edward explained. "He was the one that recommended I take the State Alchemy test, and he's been my commanding officer since."_

" _And what exactly is he like," Izumi inquired._

 _Edward moved his shoulders up and down. "He's a young Colonel. Takes pride in the fact and uses that to his advantage as he climbs the ranks. He isn't too focused on his research and always seems to have his own agenda."_

 _Izumi wrinkled her brow. "He doesn't seem like a very reliable character."_

" _He is," Alphonse reassured him. "Brother just failed to mention that he helped us get accustomed to our lives in the East. Or about how he checks in on us all the time to make sure we're doing alright."_

 _Edward folded his arms over his chest and shrugged again. "Yeah, I guess that too. Even though he constantly nags us for my reports."_

 _Still not completely sure she had a read on his character, Izumi hoped that she would perhaps get a straighter answer when it came to the Colonel's other adjunct. "And his Hawkeye fellow? What's he like?"_

"' _Hawkeye,'" Edward echoed. "She's alright. She keeps the Colonel in line and makes sure he actually follows the military's agenda."_

" _I see," Izumi responded. "And is she an alchemist as well?"_

 _Edward shook his head. "Nah, she's just a soldier. She specializes in guns and weaponry."_

" _And she's really nice," Alphonse said. "She and the Colonel have both helped us out in the past and have always done whatever they could to make sure that we're comfortable and happy." Turning toward his older brother as he lifted a glass of water to his lips, Alphonse added, "Do you remember that time they both took us to the summer festival?"_

 _A rare, almost boy-like smile flashed across Edward's face at the mention, though he was quick to conceal it behind the glass as he took a swig of water. When he set the glass down, Edward nodded. "Yeah, and Lieutenant Hawkeye won you that neat cat toy when she played that target game."_

" _Yeah," Alphonse happily chirped. "It's sitting in our dorm right now."_

 _Edward chuckled. "That's right! Right next to that book Mustang lent me on alchemy."_

" _You still haven't given it back to him after having it for a year," Alphonse pointed out, to which Edward shrugged._

" _Eh, he hasn't mentioned it. I doubt he misses it."_

 _As Alphonse shook his head in disbelief, Izumi interrupted their banter. "It sounds like this Lieutenant Hawkeye has been very kind to you too."_

" _She has been; she's really nice," Alphonse chirped. Then, as if remembering something, he turned to his older brother and added, "Do you remember when you had that crush on Lieutenant Hawkeye?"_

 _Edward, who was in the process of taking a drink of water, spat it back into his cup. Turning his head sharply toward his younger brother, Edward clamored, "Where the hell are you getting that from, Al?!" When Alphonse raised a finger and tried to respond, he cut him off by countering, "I mean, who besides Mustang could ever '_ like' _the Lieutenant? She emasculated a paper target with a bullet!"_

 _Seemingly unfazed by his older brother's attempts at downplaying whatever harmless teenage boy crush he had in the past, Alphonse added, "Oh! Didn't you say that that was the day the Colonel and the other men didn't get anything done? So she went to the shooting range during lunch? I remember because the Colonel wasn't particularly talkative after hearing about her results."_

" _How would I know what day it was," Edward countered defensively. "And why were you going on about a crush when you made her a flower crown?"_

 _Alphonse shrugged and proudly folded his steel arms over his chest. "That's because she taught me how to make them. Remember, Brother?"_

" _I don't know, Al," Edward replied with a devious grin. "Flowers are a big deal."_

" _Oh," Alphonse exclaimed. "Then is that why you gave some to Winry for her birthday?"_

 _If Edward's cheeks had been rosy before, then they had deepened in color by at least fifty shades at the mention of their childhood friend. As the elder Elric grew defensive again, Izumi sighed rubbed her temple, satisfied that she had at least gotten some information out of the brothers in regards to the military persons they reported to._

 _And while the situation was not one she particularly enjoyed, she was at least relieved to hear that they seemed to be good people._

* * *

"When the boys first told me about the two of them, I hadn't realized their involvement in the war," Izumi said as she stamped down the brush they had found themselves tromping through. "It was only later after I had asked around that I discovered who they really were. But by that time the boys had left.

"I carried that knowledge in the back of my mind and had intended to discuss the matter with them when I saw them in person again, but before I could I received their call that prompted me to come to their aid. And even then I was reluctant to help. But…" she continued as her face softened, "I hadn't realized the impact those two had truly made on the boys until I saw their reactions to what had happened to them. They've put their full trust into their own skills and the people that know Mustang and Hawkeye well, and all of them have begun to pull their efforts to help.

"And though I was still reluctant, I discovered that Colonel Mustang, the one that had caused so much damage in Ishval, had renounced his devotion to the military as it was and vowed to become the leader of Amestris so that he can bring about change." She stopped and moments later she heard the crunching of Scar's boots stop as well. "I know that it does not excuse their actions in the war, nor is this my way of forgiving what they had done. But right now they may be the only ones that could achieve the peace this country needs… And if Edward and Alphonse believe in them, then I too will believe and do what I can to bring them back."

She paused and waited for a response. But instead heard the sound of boots crunching against the snow, and she stiffened. Out of the corner of her eye she saw him pass her without giving her a second glance before he stepped over to a set of bushes they had paused in front of.

Turning his crimson eyes toward her, he reached out and pulled the bushes apart, revealing a small cavernous opening.

She paced a few steps forward and peered inside, her mouth hanging slightly open as her eyes focused against the darkness, noticing that the ground curved and sloped downward. When she peeled her eyes away to thank him, he narrowed his and muttered, "Do not mistake my silence for forgiveness. Regardless of what they have done or how they plan to redeem themselves, they are still abominations of alchemy. And because of that I will not hesitate to destroy them in the name of God."

* * *

"So then," General Raven began, folding his hands together and resting them on the table in front of himself. "Now that you know about the military's little secret, what are your honest thoughts, General?"

Olivier pursed her lips together and allowed her eyes to slowly wander from Raven to 'Mustang' as the latter seated himself beside the aging General after having excused himself to make a call to only god knew where. She took a moment to take in their contrasting features and evaluate them. While Raven displayed himself outwardly as calm and collected, she could tell that beneath his skin he was sweating. On the other hand, Mustang, at first glance, only appeared annoyed by their choice to convene on the matter. But she trusted her instincts on what was beneath the surface, and after seeing the way he had looked at that child minutes before.

There was a darkness with sinister intentions lurking beyond his eyes, too far removed from the character she had reluctantly begun to know as Roy Mustang. It had been something she had picked up the moment she had met the 'Homunculus,' but this time it seemed so much more powerful. So much more lethal. She would have to take care and choose her words lightly if she wanted to avoid stirring the beast further… Especially if the lives of the men of Fort Briggs hung in the balance.

Peeling her eyes away from the monster, she focused her attention on Raven once more and leaned back in her chair. "That depends on how involved you intend to make my fortress." When Raven raised his brows, she elaborated, "Clearly there is something here you desire, or you wouldn't be here in the first place."

Her statement seemed to throw the General, as his eyes widened and lips parted beneath his salt and pepper beard. He recovered quickly, though, and laughed. Refusing to be deterred by what she assumed would be a lighthearted response, she waited for him to finish his brief interlude in their otherwise tense conversation. When it did finally die down, he shook his head and said, "I completely understand your concerns, General Armstrong. And I don't blame you for seeking out more information about your 'surprise visitor.' But rest assured that our primary objective here was to make sure that it remained doing as it was told. Nothing more and nothing less."

She refrained from showing her disgust regarding his blatant lie, instead deciding that playing the part would prove to be more beneficial for her. Under the pressure of the second pair of dark eyes that had been keenly watching her, she leaned forward slightly and rested her elbows on the table. "So the reason you two are here is because of that beast?"

"That's precisely it," Raven lied through his teeth. "We needed to make sure that it was still going through with its intended purpose."

"Is that so," she mused as her eyes wandered to and locked with 'Mustang's.' "And what exactly is its intended purpose? Or really, what is the purpose of a Homunculus?"

"Well," Raven replied as he rubbed his hands together, "Its purpose is only a small fraction of a part of the grander scheme of things, General."

'The grander scheme of things,' she repeated back in her mind. He likely meant the circle it was digging beneath Fort Briggs, as well as the whole of Amestris. Olivier would have to weigh her options carefully at that moment, because one misstep could lead them directly back to the child alchemist, knowing full well that he would be their primary target the moment she uttered anything about alchemy. Both of them knew that she was familiar with alchemy to some degree, 'Mustang' more so than Raven. But at that moment she had no idea how much the monster that lurked within Mustang knew about her or her history. And that moment was not the time to test that matter…

At that point she saw two options: Either relenting to their demands and possibly putting the lives of those within Fort Briggs at stake or bend to their whims and gather what information she could. After all, she could only gather so much from what her men and the child deduced. In her eyes, the latter seemed to be the safer of the two options, at least until she was able to draw enough information from them to formulate her own opinion of their disreputable plan. Choosing to take the opportunity before her, she leaned in closer and rested her chin on her hands. "You speak of a 'grander scheme of things' and it playing a rather small role," she began, "But what I've found most interesting is its ability to heal and its incredible strength."

Her deviation certainly caught the attention of the two men seated across from her. While 'Mustang's' eyes narrowed, Raven's widened with interest. Seeing that she, at least for the moment, had them headed in the direction she wanted them to go, she elaborated, "Its abilities and supposed immortality seem almost too good to be true."

Seemingly intrigued by her reaction, Raven leaned forward on his elbows and asked, "Are you implying that you've interest in immortality, General Armstrong? You don't have to be embarrassed if you are. You're in good company here."

Good company her ass. She paused to allow herself to search his expression, but found that the usually readable General had become illegible to her efforts to read him. Olivier suppressed a frustrated growl of contempt toward the older General and instead tried to offer him the sincerest looking smile she could muster. "I just find the entire concept fascinating, General Raven. I don't know how to respond."

"Well," he answered, his tone serious. "The answer is a rather simple one. Either you are in or you aren't."

Her jaw tightened and she felt her faux smile slip. "I suppose," she began, reminding herself to choose her words carefully, "That there is only one answer at this time. And if that is the case, then you can count me in."

The older General immediately relaxed and the serious aspect he had taken on softened. "I'm glad you agree," he said. "Because I am sure you would agree that the concept could be suited for a very meaningful endeavor."

Meaningful…? "How so," she asked as she crossed her ankles and leaned back in her chair.

"Just imagine applying the concept of immortality to an army," he answered.

"'An immortal army,'" she echoed, knitting her brows together.

"That's right," Raven replied eagerly. "Just imagine – an entirely immortal army. One where its soldiers can neither die nor decay."

She pursed her lips and searched his expression, once again finding that she could read it… at least somewhat. The dark cloud that had hung behind his eyes had almost entirely vanished, instead replaced by a spark of enthusiasm. Still, she knew that it still hung there, waiting for her to make a misstep so that he could back her into a corner. Keeping her head level and her voice even, she replied, "You say that they cannot die…" When he nodded in clarification, she challenged, "So what power would any commander hold over them? Especially if it could be near effortless for them to overthrow their superiors."

"Ah, always thinking like a General, I see. It's very admirable," he complimented. "It's also very wise of you to think that way and, as you will see, is something that we've taken into account."

"How so," she pressed lightly.

The corners of his lips curled upward beneath his greying beard. "Well, I never said that immortality would apply to an army, correct?"

"True," she answered. "Though you never made mention of it."

He offered her a faux smile of sincerity. "You'll have to forgive me, General Armstrong. I only discuss the matter when I know that my words will be taken to heart. You see, there have been some that do not believe in the potential behind an immortal army or those that command it so I had to be sure that it would be heard only by those who believe in it. And now," he continued, "I am certain of it; that you are one of the few chosen that are able to accept such a grand reward."

"'Accept,'" she echoed. "You mean to tell me that those that are in league with you will possess the same immortality you will give to those in your supposed immortal army."

The older General's smile widened. "That's right, General Armstrong. And I believe that you are a perfect fit for our band of visionaries. Because you have shown the willful determination and drive that separates you from all of the other Generals. Under your leadership and command, an army of that magnitude would be unstoppable."

"Is that why you accepted it, Mustang," she asked as her eyes slowly wandered over to the monster that was seated beside Raven. But the moment her eyes met his, she tensed. Sometime between that moment and the last time she had laid eyes on him, something had happened. Instead of peering into the dark, blue-specked eyes she had grown accustomed to seeing on Mustang, she instead found that specks of blood had infiltrated the whites of his eyes.

The young General quirked a brow in response to her stare, seemingly unaware of his supposed injuries. Resting his elbows on the table and pressing the junction between his nose and mouth against his fingers, hiding behind it the specks of blood that dotted his lips, he asked, "Are you expecting an answer from Roy Mustang or myself?"

"The former," she answered concisely.

The Homunculus moved its shoulders up and down. "I don't know what to tell you, General, except that Mustang isn't up for answering anything at the moment."

She raised a brow. "You're suggesting that Mustang is alive inside of you then?" She saw his eyes widen slightly, to which she responded by murmuring, "Fascinating," before turning her attention back to Raven. Before she addressed him, however, she took notice of 'Mustang' stealthily rubbing the corner of his lip with his thumb. Perhaps a side effect of his possession?

"Tell me, General," she addressed Raven. "If one were to accept your offer, would they too be condemned to sharing their bodies with an immortal being?"

The older General chuckled and shook his head. "I don't believe that would happen, General Armstrong. Your leadership is what makes you a worthy candidate."

If that was so, she wondered silently, then why had Mustang fallen victim to a monster that possessed both his body and his soul? Had he and Hawkeye been the prototypes in this elaborate scheme the military had devised? Or had their purpose been entirely different…? Either way, Raven's words seemed almost inconclusive, as though he himself did not know what his fate would be once given the immortality he craved.

"I'll admit that your offer is appealing, but I would have to consider the welfare of my men. When the day comes that immortality is no longer just a concept, will the soldiers of Briggs benefit or just me?"

He paused for a moment, as if to collect his thoughts. Then he nodded and replied with a cryptic, "When the day comes, yes."

Just as she had thought, he wouldn't be making any guarantees until that day would arrive. And now she was stuck with the option of continuing to go along with them and possibly jeopardizing her men at Briggs, or risk being demoted when they decided that she was no longer of use to them, because they surely had other pawns lined up that would take her place. And then there was the entirely other mess that was the dethroning of Fuhrer Bradley and the instatement of General Grumman as the acting Fuhrer, a scheme she was confident they had been behind as well. That led to the question in her mind of whether or no Grumman was in league with them or if he too was just another one of their pawns, a cheery, seasoned General they could hide behind while they continued on with their nefarious scheme.

"Of course," he continued, "In order for one to obtain immortality, they must also bend to the whim of those that still govern the laws by which they follow."

The catch, she reasoned with herself. "And what exactly are those laws, General?"

"Just as we had discussed beforehand, there is still the matter of what to do with the Homunculus that infiltrated this dear fort," he started.

She raised her brows in response to convey her understanding.

"Well, in order to share in the benefit of our ranks, one must accept that those of higher power have ultimate authority and that their orders are still law," Raven answered as his face darkened. "And the order that I am now giving you is to put the Homunculus you have frozen outside back into the ground." He must have seen her hesitate because he leaned in closer and repeated, "Now that you've accepted this, you must obey authority, Major General Armstrong."

She clenched her jaw and met his eyes with the same intensity he was exuding, and had prepared herself to answer when a soldier opened the door to the room and stepped inside without knocking.

"Sirs," he said as he saluted. "Important news from Central Command."

Without giving him another glance, his eyes still on Olivier, Raven muttered, "Can this wait soldier? We are in the middle of an important discussion."

"I can't, sir," the soldier apologized. "It's urgent. It's a message directly from the office of the Fuhrer."

* * *

"The General wants you to wait here until one of us returns to collect you later," Major Miles instructed Edward as he stepped out of the way to grant Edward passage. When Edward hesitated, Miles shook his head. "There isn't anything you can do right now, Fullmetal. All we can do is wait on the General's status report."

"I know that," Edward replied as he raised his hand to wipe away the beads of sweat that were still plastered on his brow. When Miles raised his brows confusedly, he elaborated, "But how exactly do you know that General Armstrong will be alright? After all, she walked right into the middle of their plans."

Miles opened his mouth to respond but then promptly shut it, as if deciding that his answer were inappropriate. Edward turned his asking gaze toward him and Miles sighed. "Unfortunately, there isn't anything we can do except trust that the General will stand her ground."

"Yeah, I know," Edward answered agitatedly. "But I put my trust in her before and was nearly let down by it."

If his statement at all shocked Miles, Edward couldn't tell. If anything, however, he was sure he had offended the Briggs soldier. "You don't know the General like I do, Fullmetal," Miles started. "But from my experience and from what I know, she will always come out on top."

"Even if that means sacrificing a few lives, right," Edward challenged. "Because right now Warrant Officer –or Major—Falman is in hot water too. The only difference is that his life is insignificant in comparison to hers."

"I understand what you mean. I really do," Miles contended. "And for the time being Major Falman will be under her protection."

"But for how long," Edward pressed. "How long will he and his family have their protection?"

He could see the uncertainty in Miles's eyes, and he knew that he did not have that answer. And when he confirmed it by shaking his head, Edward turned away and stepped into his room. He listened as Miles pulled the steel door away from the wall and began to swing it around to close it, but then heard it stop before fully doing so.

"Just trust the General, Edward," Miles muttered from behind the door. "And believe that she will do what is necessary to ensure the safety of those she has chosen to protect." Edward clenched and unclenched his fists, but decided not to answer. Likely realizing he would not be able to reason with him, Miles sighed and finished closing the door behind him.

When Edward at last heard the sound of the keys turning the lock on the door, he allowed himself to succumb to the feeling of dread that had settled in the pit of his stomach that he had endured for the walk up to his room. His knees giving out and buckling beneath him, he slumped to the ground and onto his hands and knees, and proceeded to dry-heave.

* * *

"Alphonse!"

Writhing out of Lust's grasp, Winry stumbled forward and fell to her knees as the boy's helmet clattered onto the ground in front of her. Taking it between her hands, she pulled it onto her lap and began to frantically call his name, begging for him to answer her.

Lust scoffed, apparently tired of her incessant screams. Stepping around Winry as she continued to call Alphonse's name, Lust wandered over to the pile that had once been his armor and crouched down in front of it. Reaching into the rubble, she rummaged and pushed the fractured steel pieces around until she found one piece in particular. A smile playing on her lips, she held it up and rotated it in her hand, appreciating how the light reflected off of the metal the undamaged blood seal was painted on.

"Well then, it looks like you have nowhere else to go," she sneered as she got to her feet and held it out in front of her, "So are you going to cooperate now?"

Winry gasped and looked up from the helmet upon hearing her address the sheet of metal.

"No… I won't," a familiar disembodied voice countered. "No matter what, I won't tell you anything."

"Is that so," she pondered as she lifted her free hand and pressed her finger against the edge of the plate. "Because it looks like I cut you off a bit too close to the edge. I would hate if my finger just slipped." And with that she trailed her finger down and lifted it off of the metal before pressing it down on the center of his blood seal. "Wouldn't you agree—"

"Stop!"

Surprised by the sudden outburst, Lust looked over her shoulder and leered as Winry slowly staggered to her feet, still clutching Alphonse's helmet to her chest.

Seeing that she had the Homunculus's attention, she quavered, "Stop… You monster… Stop... Let him go. _Please_."

Unfazed by her pleas, the Homunculus smiled and shot her a sympathetic look. "As much as I would love to comply, I simply can't do that. I need information and he is the key. I suppose you could call it equivalent exchange; his information for your freedom."

"Then take me," she cried as she released one of her hands from the helmet and pressed it over her heart. Lust raised her brows, intrigued.

"Winry," Alphonse cried. "Don't—"

"Take… Take my information in exchange for him," she said as her body began to tremble. "Please… I'll tell you anything! Just," she whimpered as she looked down at the helmet she had clutched against her body, "Just… Don't hurt him anymore."

"Are you willing to give me the truth," the Homunculus inquired. "Because if you do, I will guarantee his survival—"

"-Winry, no," Alphonse cried. "You don't have to do this! Please! She needs me alive! She can't kill—"

He was cut off by Lust's sharp, mocking laugh. Turning back to face the piece of metal, she quipped, "Do you honestly think you're special, Alphonse Elric? That your purpose is completely secured? Because if that is the case, you are sorely mistaken."

"W-what," he replied, his voice riddled with shock. "No… You're lying! You need both Brother and me for whatever you're planning! You said so yourself."

"That's correct," Lust admitted as she closed her eyes and moved her shoulders up and down. "I have called you a sacrifice numerous times. Even back when I first encountered you. Which I'm sure you remember, right?"

Alphonse gasped, and Winry knew exactly where his mind had gone. She knew all too well the state he had returned in. His arm dislocated, his helmet in pieces, and his body infested with holes. From the way he described it, the Homunculus had not held back… Just like she hadn't the second time...

Seemingly pleased by his shocked response, she continued, "And have you already forgotten how ready I was to tear you to pieces then? I certainly didn't hesitate."

"I…" The young boy trailed off, realizing that the Homunculus's words rang true.

Lust cocked her head to the side and gave the sheet of metal a sympathetic smile as she raised her finger again and pressed it firmly against the blood seal, eliciting a pained gasp from the young boy. "I'm sorry it has to be this way, Alphonse," she purred. "The Lieutenant and I had hoped for a completely different outcome, but I suppose it was unavoidable in the end. You're too set in your ways to think about the larger scheme of things, only thinking about yourself and those closest to you. And in the end," she added as she steadied her hand, "I suppose that that was your downfall—"

"They went north!"

Lust hesitated and pulled her finger away from the blood seal, turning to look over her shoulder at Winry as tears began to well up in her blue eyes.

Before Winry could even consider giving her split-second decision another thought, she choked out, "They… They went north. Near Fort Briggs. We don't know the name of the town, but they're… They're close enough to reach it by foot."

"Are you sure, Winry," the Homunculus asked in a sickeningly sweet tone. "Because I'd hate to cross-examine that information and find it to be false, especially given the circumstances…"

"It's the truth," Winry proclaimed. "I'm not lying to you! Not…" she added softly, "Not when it's Al's life that hangs in the balance. So please… Let him go," she weakly begged as she hugged the helmet closer to her body, the tears now falling freely down onto the metal, producing dull _clanks_ with every one that made contact. "That's all we know. I promise you… I promise…"

"Well… It certainly took you long enough."

Confused, Winry looked up at her and shakenly muttered, "What… What do you mean?"

"What I mean," Lust explained, "Is that I've been waiting for the moment you would tell me what you know."

Feeling her heart sink deep within her chest, Winry again asked, "… What…?"

"You see, it was _you_ I wanted this entire time, Winry. Between you and Alphonse, I knew I wouldn't get any information from the latter. So instead I decided to pursue an easier target. After all, your resolve is pathetically weak."

"What," Winry gaped, her eyes widening with disbelief.

Lust's smirk widened. "That's right. _You_ were my target all along. The reason why Alphonse is in this state is because of _you_ , Winry."

Winry felt as though her heart had been ripped from her chest; as though every fiber of _her_ being had been torn into by Lust's claws – rather than Alphonse's. Everything that had transpired, everything that had happened, was because Lust wanted to draw out enough information from _her_. The reason why Alphonse was reduced to a pile of scrap metal was because of _her_.

"It's funny…"

Winry's thoughts were abruptly cut off when Lust's voice pierced the air. Looking up from the helmet she had focused her unbelieving glare on, Winry once again met the Homunculus's ruthless glare.

Seeing that she once again had her attention, Lust continued. "It's funny how the Lieutenant instilled within you the desire to protect those you care about. After all, who wouldn't feel the same desire after receiving a pep talk from a commonplace soldier that wanted the same? I suppose anyone would feel the same way after making a connection like that. I just find it amusing that her words, those words you deemed precious and held so desperately to, are now turned against you," she said as she raised her free hand and balled it into a fist, "And crushed."

"What's going on here?"

Upon hearing the voice, Lust ripped her attention away from Winry and Alphonse and focused it on the approaching unknown. But just before she completely turned away, Winry saw something in her eyes. Something she wouldn't have expected to see.

Fear.

Pulling her eyes away from the Homunculus, Winry too looked up at the individuals that had appeared and gasped. While her eye had been drawn to the stout, bald-headed man who appeared to have stuck his finger in his mouth for the first few moments of their encounter, it almost immediately found itself on the blond-haired individual that accompanied him.

Memories of her childhood suddenly flashed through her mind. The times when she had been young and had accompanied her parents to the Elric household. Always seeing the two brothers and their mother, rarely seeing the blond-haired man that they had called their Father. But even so, she could not deny that he bore a strikingly similar resemblance to the figure that had stood in the one and only Elric family picture.

But how…? How could it possibly be?

"You're… You're him," she managed to utter, stunned. Though Winry's memories of the man were fragmented, she could at least remember a few details in regards to Van Hohenheim. Aside from his abrupt disappearance from their lives, he had seemed like a decent man. Not necessarily 'good,' but certainly not bad…

The blond-haired, robe-clad man looked past Lust and down at Winry, and his face screwed with unrecognition. "I doubt I am the individual you think I am," he droned before completely dismissing her. "More importantly," he continued as he scanned the pieces of armor before ultimately settling on Lust, "I want to know what has happened here."

Though it was subtle, Winry could see that Lust had begun to sweat. She watched as the Homunculus took a step back, pulling the scrap of metal Alphonse's blood seal was on closer to herself. When his golden eyes turned on her, she straightened her back and admitted, "I am gathering information on the whereabouts of one of your sacrifices, Father. I've done what I've needed to do to secure one of them for you already—"

The man frowned deeply. "You are saying that this," he began as he nodded toward the metal plate in her hand, "Is one of our valued sacrifices?"

Winry saw Lust draw her lips thin in an almost submissive act beneath his scrutinizing eye. She swallowed before nodding her head and murmuring, "I've secured Alphonse Elric, Father, and have already discovered the location of the fifth—"

The man clicked his tongue and shook his head. "That is no way to treat our sacrifices," he began as a red spark appeared and danced across his body.

Before Winry could fully process what was happening, the ground beneath her knees began to shudder. Jerking her head up and around to look at the man once more, she saw a plethora of red sparks fall from his body and illuminate the ground around the sheets of metal that had once been the armor that housed Al's soul. Feeling a slight tug on the helmet in her lap, she looked down at it as it began to rattle and jerk away from her. Releasing her grip on it, she watched as it rolled out of her lap and toward the pieces of scrap metal that laid in a heap before her. Then, she watched as the pieces rose up into the air and began to congeal together, realigning and sealing their ends as they began to form a solid form. The piece that was in Lust's grasp too flew out of her hands and into the form, rearranging itself toward the back.

Within a few moments, the pile began to take a familiar humanoid shape, piecing together and structuring itself into the suit of armor that housed Alphonse Elric. As the final parts righted themselves, Winry couldn't help but break her position by clamoring to her feet and racing to him. Throwing her arms around his armored arm, she cried, "Alphonse!"

She felt him shift as he looked down at her. Looking up at him, she saw that his soul-fire eyes had ignited once more, taking on an almost shocked appearance. "Win… Winry," he managed to stutter as he began to find his bearings once more.

Before she could answer him, the stranger stepped over to Alphonse and put a hand on his metallic shoulder. The young boy responded by turning sharply toward him while angling his body to block Winry from his view. Unfazed by the boy's jumpy response, the man focused his eyes on his armor shell and moved his hand up and down his arm. "How's that?"

Alphonse took a step back and allowed himself the opportunity to fully appreciate his newly reconstructed boy. He looked down at his hands and clenched and unclenched them before turning his focus to other parts of his body, slowly surveying himself and his recovered form. After seemingly finding no fault in his body, he looked up at the man Lust had addressed as 'Father' and uttered, "Yeah… It looks good."

"Excellent," Father mused. "You are a vital asset. Please keep yourself in top condition."

"I," Alphonse started as he looked down at his hands again… Suddenly he gasped and looked up at the man again, his soul-fire eyes aglow. "Wait! I remember your face! Van Hohenheim?!"

The man scrunched his face and paused to rub his beard, staring away from the pair as he mumbled the name 'Hohenheim' under his breath.

"So," Alphonse asked when it appeared that he did not recognize the name. "You're _not_ my father? You're not Van Hohenheim?"

"Father," the man mumbled as he scratched his chin. "Hohen… Oh!" With newfound curiosity, he turned toward Alphonse and inquired, "Are you saying that your father is Van Hohenheim?"

"Yes," Alphonse said as he rubbed the back of his helmet. "I apologize for my mistake, though. It's just that you look so much like him."

"Your surname is 'Elric,'" the man observed.

"Ahh… Yes," Alphonse answered as he rubbed the back of his helmet. "'Elric' is our mother's maiden name. She and our father never got married, so we took her name instead."

"Incredible! This is such a surprise," the man suddenly exclaimed. "I never knew Hohenheim had children." Putting his hand on Alphonse's shoulder, he looked the suit of armor up and down eagerly and said, "Had you taken more from his appearance or your mother's, I wonder?"

"Uh," Alphonse began uncomfortably as he took a step back. "I guess I have his eyes and his hair, or so I've been told…"

The man chuckled enthusiastically and took another step around Alphonse, forcing Winry to remove her grip in Al's arm in order to avoid contact with him. Her movement away from the suit of armor did not seem to faze him, however. He seemed far too keen on knowing about Van Hohenheim and where he was living at the time. As Alphonse began to reluctantly reply with his ignorance on the matter, Winry felt something brush over her. Turning to look over her shoulder, she saw that the stout, bald man had moved become more interested in her than his companion.

She made a motion to step away from him but he resisted by grabbing her arm and holding it up to his nose. When she tried to jerk away, he looked up at her, hurt. "Please hold still so I can eat you," he begged over the sound of his stomach rumbling.

Confused, disgusted, Winry gasped and tried to pull harder, which only made the monster hold her tighter.

"Winry!" Feeling a strong hand on her shoulders, she saw another hand come up from behind her to push it away. Backing into the suit of armor that had rescued her, she wrapped her arms around him, refusing to let go.

"Who is this?"

Jerking her head around, she saw Father's brows raise and take in her appearance, as though it had been the first time he had seen her.

"My friend," Alphonse explained. When she looked up at him, his soul-fire eyes brightened, and he gasped. "You're still bleeding!" Turning his attention back to the man as she lifted a hand to feel the penetrating wound on her neck, he begged, "You fixed my armor… Are you able to heal her wounds?"

The corners of Father's lips turned downward and his monotonous expression appeared to sour. "She is of little use to me. Gluttony," he said, addressing the stout Homunculus that had accompanied him, "You may—"

"No," Alphonse cried, taking a step to the side to shield her. "I won't let you harm her. You said that you want me to be happy, right? Well nothing will make me happier than if you heal her!"

"He's right," Lust chimed in as she raised a mischievous brow. "She might give Gluttony a stomachache—"

"That's enough from you," Father chided without casting his glance in her direction. When she opened her mouth to speak, he cut her off again, turning toward her as he spoke. "I think you've done enough here. Go along now and complete that other task I asked you to do."

She made a move to speak again, but a sharp look from her put her in her place, and she submitted, turning her eyes toward the floor. "Yes, Father."

She took a few steps around Gluttony, patting him on the head as she went, and then passed by Alphonse and Winry without giving them a second look. But after taking a few additional paces, she paused. "Winry," the Homunculus addressed her as she glanced over her shoulder at him.

Looking up, Winry locked eyes with Lust, seeing that her violet eyes had begun to cloud with what appeared to be blood.

Seeing she had her attention, she managed one last impish smirk. "I want you to listen closely, Winry, and I want you to remember this: Since the beginning of this entire ordeal, you have been nothing but a pawn – a piece that has been moved despite you having your own will. Your words and actions up until this point have played into our plan, and nothing you have done has benefitted you or your friends—"

"That's not true," Alphonse cried as he stepped forward, as if attempting to shield Winry from Lust's harsh words. "She's done more than enough to help us! You don't know anything about her!"

"Oh, I can assure you that I know her just as well as the Lieutenant does, Alphonse," she answered with confidence. Then, without hesitating, she turned her focus toward Winry again and managed to catch her eyes. "Your resolve to help has failed, Winry. And it is all because you have resigned yourself to yet again sitting on the sidelines while those you vowed to protect fight your battles for you. Remember this… Because you are weak."

Winry saw Alphonse move out of the corner of her eye to counter her words, but saw him stop when she herself made no attempt to correct the Homunculus. Instead, her words slowly sank in and sat in her heart.

Because she realized that they were true.

When she felt flesh fingers on her neck, she jerked her head up to see Father standing in front of her, looking down at her and over the bridge of his nose. Before she could flinch away, a burst of red sparks danced in the corner of her vision, illuminating the area around her. And just over and past his shoulder, she could see Lust stumble around a corner and vanish.

As the sparks began to die and the warmness that accompanied them faded, Father stepped back and, keeping his attention on the two of them, addressed the one he had called Gluttony and said, "Why don't you take our special guests back up to the surface, Gluttony? I'm sure they've had it with being down here."

* * *

After staggering along for as long as her body was able, Lust's legs finally gave out from beneath her and she crashed to her hands and knees. Already feeling the strain of the Lieutenant's struggle, she bowed forward and coughed, speckling the stones under her with flecks of fresh blood. Gritting her teeth as it began to accumulate and escape the recesses of her lips, Lust snarled, "You _bitch_. Give up… You won't _win_!"

" _I… I don't intend to_ ," Hawkeye replied, her voice barely above a pathetic whisper. " **…** _But… If I can destroy as much… As I can of you… That will be victory enough…"_

Lust couldn't help but smirk in regards to the Lieutenant's folly. "Don't tell me you're doing this because of that _worthless_ child?" Hawkeye bristled but did not respond, instead pushing harder… Harder than she had before. Clenching her abdomen as she felt her organs contract and expand as they simultaneously ruptured and repaired themselves, she growled, "I'll take that as a 'yes' then…"

The Lieutenant punished her again by fighting harder, until blood began to seep from her eyes. Bending forward, Lust slammed her forehead against the ground and continued to press her head to it as the Lieutenant's unrelenting assault continued.

"You're… pathetic," Lust hissed between sharp bursts of pain. "Destroying yourself over something so… _insignificant_. Playing into my hands with your wasted desire for _revenge_."

" _What you've done… Is inexcusable,_ " the Lieutenant rasped. " _And I… Won't let you go unscathed… Even if… Even if it costs me-_ "

* * *

"-My _soul_ ," Riza shouted in her own voice, briefly in control of her own body. But even then having control seemed to provide any benefit for her. Instead, she muddily discerned as the pain she had felt moments before increased tenfold, it would only hinder her. Unable to process anything but the agony, she curled into herself and poured her resulting scream into the crook of her arm.

But even then, she managed to form in her mind, the pain was worth it. Because she finally gathered the strength to deliver a heavy blow to Lust. And all it took was a reminder from a little girl she had met in Resembool…

* * *

 _A soft knock on the door prompted Riza to stop her work and look up. When she saw who was at the door, she smiled warmly._ " _It's so nice to finally see you again, Winry," Riza mused as she dipped her head. "It's been far too long."_

" _It has, Miss Riza," Winry agreed with a smile as she stepped into the room. Pointing at her own hair, she added, "Your hair has gotten so much longer since I last saw you."_

 _Reaching up and running her fingers through her shoulder-length hair, Riza mused, "I decided to try growing it out for a change."_

 _Winry beamed. "It looks really nice."_

 _Riza felt her smile grow. "Are you looking for the boys," she asked._

 _Winry shook her head. "No, not right now. I saw them with Colonel Mustang a while ago."_

" _Oh," Riza replied. "Is there something I can help you with then?"_

" _Actually there is," Winry offered as she clasped her hands together behind her back, "And I wanted to see if I could talk to you about it."_

" _Oh, of course," Riza said as Winry approached her desk. "I'm all ears."_

 _Stopping in front of it, Winry smiled. "I was thinking about what you had said back then on the way here and it really got me thinking."_

 _Riza lifted her brows, for a brief moment not understanding what the girl had meant. But then it came back to her, their conversation that had happened all those years ago. Back when Riza had revealed to her her reason for remaining in the military after Winry had announced her dislike of soldiers. At the time the moment hardly seemed significant, but after looking back at it once she had left, Riza had realized that the conversation had changed the both of them… for the better._

 _Throughout the years when she had traveled to Eastern Command to see Edward and Alphonse, Riza had noticed that Winry seemed to smile often, despite being in a place crawling with military personnel and soldiers. She was more comfortable, relaxed when she saw her, and had never once seen the girl act out of place. And while she hadn't completely attributed their conversation to that, Riza had hoped that it had made a small impact on the girl's vision of the military, at the very least providing her with someone she could discuss her concerns._

" _And because of you, I've decided to change my resolve," Winry elaborated. "Because I want to protect those that I care about too." She looked bashfully down at her toes and shrugged a shoulder. "What I mean is… That I want to protect them any way that I can. Even if it means only fixing Ed's armor or getting the right brand of oil for Al every time I see him. Or even making food whenever they decide to stop by Resembool."_

 _As her words sank in, Riza's lips parted, an odd mixture of shock and awe welling up inside of her. To think that her words, her words of devotion to her superior officer could bring about something so kind seemed unfathomable to her. That she, a seasoned soldier, had made such a positive impact on her. But she had nonetheless, and because of that she was proud._

 _Feeling her smile widen, Riza replied, "I'm so happy to hear that, Winry."_

* * *

Protect.

The moment that Riza had decided to follow Roy was the moment she had sworn to protect him. To protect anyone that shared with her her values. To protect until her dying breath.

She had feared that the ability was lost to her when she could not break through before, but now she realized that she had the strength all along. It just took something of significance to push her and keep her moving forward.

This fight could hardly make up for the untruths Lust had delivered upon Winry, but for the time being it would be enough… Enough to give Riza the strength needed to fight back.

And she would remember that strength and hold onto that desire to protect, then she would fight to overcome the sin that had been injected into her veins…

Riza had not realized that Lust had begun to take control again until she felt the tips of her fingers against her sternum. Craning her head down, she stared at the hand that had risen up to press against her chest, immediately realizing that her short bout of freedom had come to an end. She clenched her jaw to suppress her sob and braced herself. Lust took hold of the opportunity and lunged forward and released her fury, driving her spears into her chest and directly through her heart.

Instead of the intense pain she had imagined, Riza felt nothing. Riza's breath caught in her chest as the nothingness slowly spread from the site of her wound, leaking into every vessel, every muscle, every bone – until it had stretched to every corner of her body. And then, just when it seemed like it would settle itself deep in her bones, it slowly began to recede, drawing with it her body's warmth until it everything settled around the spots where the spears had penetrated her chest.

The spears retracted and she swayed uneasily on the arm she had used to support herself. Darkness began to cloud her vision, and she knew that her time at the surface was up. But despite that, she felt a faint smile touch her lips. She had proved that she was capable of delivering blows devastating enough to rattle the Homunculus that had possessed her, all without completely losing her soul. Riza could still go on… Could still continue to fight to protect those she cares most about… For the time being.

As the hand that had brought about the final blow began to lower itself away from her body, she looked down at it, seeing that the dark fabric of the gloves that were the Homunculus's signature weapon had been tainted with blood.

As her vision began to darken and her body began to relax, she vowed that she would continue to fight, to continue to protect. Knowing full well that with each fight she would sink deeper into the Stone. But as long as she could hold onto that desire, she would never succumb.

Even if it meant enduring the pain of her body's rejection of the Stone. Because even then, she remembered thinking as her body gave in and she began to fall; the pain had made her feel so… human.

* * *

"You're… pitiful," Lust rasped as she watched through blurring vision the puddle of blood around her that had begun to steadily grow. "Investing your… energy in something so… worthless… Giving what little remains… for the sake of others…"

In her mind's eye she could see the physical manifestation of the Lieutenant's soul lying eerily still, unresponsive to her taunts. Lust gritted her teeth and growled as the Lieutenant's last words continued to ring out in the back of her mind, reminding her that she would continue to fight to that caliber until she no longer could.

Then, the corners of Lust's lips turned upward, allowing another rush of blood to seep out beyond them as she smiled. "It'll only be… a matter of time," she breathed. "Your body… Mind… Soul… All of it… Will be mine…"

The Lieutenant did not respond, though Lust had figured she wouldn't. Her energy had been entirely spent. And like her, Lust's had been as well. Hawkeye's fight had momentarily removed her from the Philosopher's Stone, just long enough for her body to react. And now that it had, she would have to endure the agonizing process of regeneration as her Stone righted itself.

But at least, she mused to herself as the darkness that had spotted her vision began to spread, she had won in the end…

* * *

If Greed could count on his hands the number of times he had circled the tunnels that afternoon, he'd have to pull off his shoes and count on his toes. And while he wasn't completely alone, the boy prince wasn't exactly much company that day. So when he stumbled upon Lust in a rather vulnerable state, he was relieved to discover a way to curb his boredom.

He nudged her with the toe of his boot and waited for a response. When he did not immediately receive one, he dug his toe into her side. "Yo! You alright—" He did not draw back his foot when her arm shot up to grab his ankle. Smirking, he watched as she rolled her head to the side and narrowed her lavender eyes.

"What do you want, Greed," she rasped, her voice gravelly and rough from what he deduced had been an unscheduled sleep.

"Good morning to you too," he replied cockily. "Figured I'd check on my favorite sister, see how she's doing and all."

Lust grumbled something unintelligible under her breath and pushed herself up onto her hands and knees.

Greed crouched down and met her halfway. Seeing that her face and hands and well, everything, were covered in blood, he did his brotherly duty and pointed toward his own face. "You got a little something right here." She shot him a pointed look, clearly unamused by his joking manner. "Alright, alright," he contended as he raised his hands defensively and backed off. "Sorry. Wasn't sure you knew or not."

She raised one of her hands and glared down at it, seeing the blood. With a frustrated sigh she grabbed the bottom of her shirt and began to rub her palm against it in an effort to remove what she could from it.

"So what's the story," Greed asked, quirking a brow.

"There isn't much to it," she grumbled as she lifted her hand and wiped the corner of her mouth. "The soul that previously owned this body is still present and still hasn't accepted that I'm its new owner."

Greed bobbed his head in understanding. "Sounds pretty rough." Pressing the tip of his thumb against his chest, he smirked and said, "Too bad you didn't get stuck with someone like this kid. Sure he's a bit of an annoyance, but he submitted like—oof!" Feeling a sharp pain in his chest, Greed bowed forward and clutched his abdomen as the spark of pain traveled down his body and out through his toes. When she gave him a perplexed look, he admitted, "Looks like the kid didn't take too kindly to that one."

"Of course he didn't. These humans are too damn sensitive," Lust muttered as she rocked back on her heels. Pressing her hands against the wall, she rocked back once more before pushing herself upward, using the wall as a guide.

Greed followed suit and sprang back up to his feet to follow. Though just when she was about to take a step, her legs buckled. On impulse Greed's hand shot out and grabbed her arm, preventing her from falling further. Surprised by his body's reaction, he noted, "Looks like the kid's a gentleman."

Lust responded with a huff as she jerked her arm from his grip and pressing it to the wall to steady herself. "While I'd love to stay and chat about pointless characteristics our hosts possess, I have a few other matters I have to attend to."

Greed wrinkled his nose and glared at the back of her head, but was quick to recover as he fell into step beside her. Clasping his hands behind his back and leaning forward slightly as she continued to stumble along the wall, he said, "Must be interesting if you're in such a hurry." She rolled her eyes and he resisted the urge to smirk. Who would have thought that she'd be one to be grumpy when she first woke up?

"Oh trust me," she muttered in reply as she focused on the path in front of them. "It is."

* * *

Still plagued by the bitter taste of iron that swirled on her tongue, Lust licked her chapped lips and tried to ignore it as she waited for the line she was on to connect. Despite the fact that the ordeal had occurred and ended over an hour ago, she was still left with the residual effects of the Lieutenant's futile attempt at regaining control. Her body and muscles felt weak and her bones brittle, as if her body had become more human than Homunculus in that short span of time.

Fragile.

Breakable.

When the line rang again, she reached up and grabbed the cloth of her uniform that hung over her chest to pull it away from her body. It felt constricting as it lay over her heart, as though it were slowing the already painstakingly slow process of her healing from her wounds. While she had stopped Hawkeye dead in her tracks, she had done so at great cost to herself. The heart was always the last to heal, and the most difficult to heal too. And with her weakened state, she knew it would take a little longer than usual to return to its normal condition. Though she knew that once she did, her accelerated healing would kick in again after the Stone would correct itself after being suppressed by Hawkeye.

Anger flooded her and for a moment she considered turning it on the Lieutenant, but even then she doubted she would respond. Since she had regained consciousness, Hawkeye had been eerily quiet, barely moving or answering when prompted to. Lust knew that she had won, that the Lieutenant's soul had become more homogenous and more accepting of the Stone, but even then she knew that she was nowhere near being completely absorbed. Still, she had try and take comfort in the fact that Hawkeye's memories, even ones she had long forgotten, had become so much more vibrant and telling to her – to the point where she could recall them as if they had been her own.

The phone rang a fourth time and she considered hanging up right then and there, but just as she was about to seriously consider the action it at last connected and the voice on the other line mumbled a low, " _Hello_?"

Lust cleared her throat, removing any residual bile or blood before answering, "I have your assignment."

" _Is that so_ ," the voice replied, its tone eager. " _And where exactly will I be headed_ , Lieutenant?"

Despite the fact that her history with Solf J. Kimblee had been rather short and uneventful, Lust still couldn't stop herself from shuddering, no doubt a subconscious reaction the Lieutenant's body possessed every time it had to endure any of his utterances. Refusing to give in to her body's disgust, she evenly replied, "I don't have a specific town, unfortunately, but from what I've found there are only a few places where they could be hiding." She paused and waited for him to drawl out a snide remark in response. Much to her relief he didn't, prompting her to continue. "There is a small ghetto near the town of Colton near Briggs that houses Ishvalan refugees. It's possible that Scar dragged them there."

" _I see_ ," Kimblee replied in an almost sing-songy tone. " _Well, I'll have to see if I can fit that into my busy schedule_."

Lust wrinkled her brow, confused. "What exactly does that mean?"

" _Oh_ ," he replied with feigned surprise. " _You haven't heard about the Fuhrer_?"

Lust searched her memory, trying to remember if she had been informed of any movement involving their plan. And from what she last remembered, they had decided to play the sick Fuhrer card for as long as they could. But clearly something had recently changed. Her thoughts were interrupted when he continued.

" _It seems to me like you've been misinformed, Lieutenant_."

She fought the urge to growl and instead replied, "Please, enlighten me then," as she folded her arms and leaned back against the wall.

" _Well_ ," he began while wearing, what she assumed, was a self-satisfied smirk. " _It appears that things are moving along faster than we had initially intended up north. You actually caught me on my way out the door_."

"I see," she muttered. "Well, if that's the case, I will contract someone else to go up there and bring back our sacrifice."

" _If that doesn't turn out, you know where to find me_ ," he mused from the other end of the line.

"Indeed," she answered before pulling the receiver away from her ear and setting down on the cradle, leaving her to herself in order to process the information that he had given her.

Something must have happened to initiate the next step of the plan. Her thoughts immediately turned to the North and about the progress Wrath must have made to push it into that phase. The corner of her lip tugged upward at the thought, and she decided that she would give him a call once the dust began to settle.

* * *

The moment the secret door that had led into one of the unoccupied offices behind them closed, Alphonse and Winry found themselves alone, unable to fully process what they had just experienced. Their words between each other were entirely gone, lost to their chaotic thoughts as they continued to swirl about their minds. And yet, no words had to pass between the two of them to understand what the other felt. That they could fully agree on.

Before they could take a step toward the room's egress, a familiar face appeared in the doorframe. One that they had allowed themselves to trust. And now knowing what they did, they no longer knew if they could continue to believe that trust.

"There you two are," Jerso exclaimed as Zampano appeared behind him. "We've been looking all over for you two."

"Is… Is something wrong," Alphonse asked when he realized that they appeared anxious.

"You mean you haven't heard," Zampano asked.

Alphonse turned to Winry to exchange a perplexed look with her, but found that she was still watching Zampano and Jerso. "Do… We don't know anything," Alphonse answered without tearing his eyes away from her.

"Everyone's going home. We were sent to take you back to your living situations," Jerso explained. "Because we just discovered that Fuhrer Bradley has succumbed to his illness and has died."


	14. Chapter 14

**A/N:** _I know I haven't updated a few of my other stories, but since today was the 1 year anniversary of when I published this fic, I figured I'd put this chapter up today. The next chapter will be a pretty big one, with the following one being a pivotal point. Expect to see more Edward, Grumman, Christmas, members of Team Mustang, and Rebecca Catalina next chapter. And more development from Winry, who will not be in this state for very long. Thank you for the reviews, favorites, and follows, and thank you all for reading! And a big and special thanks to Tumblr user 'liberty-flight,' who was the one who created the idea behind this story in the first place!_

 _Also, user gaRdenia6 brought up an excellent question in a review for chapter 5 about the Homunculi in canon not being able to use alchemy. And that is very true! For this story, I am considering human-based Homunculi to be different from Homunculi in the sense that, if they still have the soul of the human inside of them and are trying to absorb it, that connection with them allows them access to their memories of alchemy as well as their Portal of Truth so that they can use it. Since Wrath and Lust have formed a sort of connection with Roy and Riza's souls, they are able to access their memories and their Gates, giving Wrath the ability to potentially harness Roy's Flame Alchemy. Since we never saw an alchemist that was turned into a Homunculus in canon, I decided to play around with the theory. ^^ Thank you for asking that! I hope my explanation makes sense!_

* * *

Aside from being instructed to return to Central Command the next day, the car ride back to the hotel Winry, and subsequently Alphonse, was staying at had been eerily silent. Even the two normally chatty officers that had been assigned to them were quiet, staring straight ahead and at the road without talking to each other. Despite his head swimming with everything that had happened and everything that had come to light in just a matter of hours, Alphonse couldn't help but wonder if they really had known all along what the "Lieutenant" was, and whether or not they were displaying guilt for what had happened. Or if they hadn't known and they were just puppets being strung along for the ride, suffering and mourning the loss of the Fuhrer they had enlisted under to defend their country. He did not dwell on the matter for too long, however, instead opting to focus his energy on Winry, who had come out of the ordeal more damaged than he.

Peering at her out of the corner of his eye, he watched as she leaned against the car's window, keeping her eyes focused on the houses that they were passing. From the moment Lust had uttered those horrific words, the light in Winry's eyes had grown dim. And despite his efforts to catch her eye, try to tell her without verbal cues that none of it was true, he still wasn't able to convince her otherwise.

It was as if Lust had brought about feelings Winry had had for quite some time.

"Tomorrow at eight work alright for you two?"

Alphonse jumped when he heard the voice, tearing his eyes away from Winry to look up at the front seat to see that Jerso had turned around and was eyeing them. "Uh… Yeah. That works," Alphonse replied.

As Jerso nodded, Winry unlatched the car door and pushed it open, stepping out onto the sidewalk without a second glance back toward the car's passengers. The three of them watched as she slammed it closed and hurriedly made her way up the hotel's steps.

Leaning forward, Alphonse quipped, "Again, thank you for the ride you two. We'll see you both tomorrow. And," he added as he turned his eyes back toward the front door, watching as it swung closed, "Thank you for telling us about the Fuhrer. We… really couldn't believe it."

"No problem, kid," Zampano replied with a nod. "You go take care of Winry and we'll be by tomorrow to pick you two up."

"Okay," Alphonse replied before pushing the door open and stepping out of the vehicle. He slammed it closed and jogged around the car and up the stairs. Just as he grabbed the door handle, he heard the car roar to life behind him and shift gears. Throwing one last glance over his shoulder, he managed to make out the two men in the car as it drove off, both of them looking out the window and toward the hotel with expressions that he would characterize as concern.

So maybe he had been wrong before. Maybe they didn't know the extent of everything that was happening…

Shaking his head to clear his thoughts on that matter, he pushed the door open and stepped into the hotel's lobby. Aside from the bellboy and the concierge seated at the front desk, the hotel was otherwise devoid of anyone else. His soul-fire eyes quickly scanned the room until they found and rested on a third individual with long, blonde hair, who was making her way toward the stairs. Reaching out, Alphonse called, "Winry," and stopped her in her tracks, refusing to turn around to look at him.

After jogging forward a few steps, he slowed a few paces behind her and began, "Winry, wait. I have to call the Madame and tell her what we know now. She might need to have the information right away—"

"You can do that, Al," she replied, her words devoid of any emotion. "I can make it up to my room myself. I'm fine."

"Winry," Alphonse began again, reaching toward her as he took another step forward.

"Al, please," she whispered, her voice weaker than it had been a few moments before. "Please just… Let me go. And I'll see you in a few minutes. Okay?" Before she could allow him the opportunity to answer, however, she stepped onto the staircase and began her ascent toward her room.

Alphonse's hand slowly fell back to his side and he stood motionless, watching as she stepped over the final step and disappeared down the hallway. Balling his gloves into fists, he bowed his head.

He regretted having left her behind so that she had essentially become a pawn for them. And he hated how useless he was when he had found her, and how scared she had been. If he had just listened to his head instead of his heart, they might have escaped without their prolonged confrontation with Lust. Without having to give away the location of his teacher and Dr. Marcoh. Or without her having to witness his weakness.

Though it was still intact, he could still feel a slight pressure on his blood seal where Lust had pressed her finger against it. Though it was not as strong as it had been before, it was still here, a glowing reminder to him of just how close he had been to death. His armor shuddered involuntarily. It was almost surreal how it had played out for them beneath the tunnels. Despite it having been hours ago, it almost seemed as though it had been something that had happened in the distant past. Or almost as though it had been some horrible nightmare…

* * *

The moment the door to her room closed behind her, Winry stumbled over to the hotel room's bedroom and pushed her way through the door into it, collapsing beside the bed as tears pricked at the corner of her eyes.

She had tried to so hard to do everything in her power to defend Ed and Al, and yet it _still_ never seemed to be enough. Was she to always remain a pawn? Something that was only convenient when their enemies needed some weight in their favor?

 _Weak…_

Winry curled her knees up to her chest and hugged them to her body, burying her face into the fabric of her skirt.

 _Pawn…_

She took a deep breath, trying with every ounce of the strength she had left to suppress the tears that had been threatening to fall since their encounter in the tunnels, and finding that her resolve was weakening with every gasp, every passing moment.

Lust's words had been nothing but true. Winry was weak, friable. She always had been, she supposed. Always waiting, always simply existing. Never giving anything despite everything Ed and Al had given…

Ed…

All she wanted at that moment was to hear his voice again. To hear him reassure her that everything would be alright. That the monsters that had taken Miss Riza and the Colonel would no longer try to do them harm. But she knew deep in her heart that that wouldn't be the case. Because Edward was out of reach and held captive by them too, and he was so far removed that nothing would change if he called. He no longer had control of the situation, and with each passing day his promises grew weaker in her mind.

Miss Riza hadn't done anything to protect them, despite Ed promising that she wouldn't allow Lust to harm them. And yet, there they were in the aftermath of a situation she allowed herself to walk into, where Alphonse had nearly been…

Her eyes began to sting as the tears she was trying to hold back began to accumulate and spill over. Pressing her face against her knees, she sucked in a deep breath, trying to hold them back. But as the thought of how close she had been to losing Al, and how powerless she had been to prevent it, continued its advance to the forefront of her mind, she lost all of her will to hold it back and began to sob. Hugging her knees closer to herself, she allowed the tears to fall freely, and finally allowed herself to grieve.

Edward was no longer there to reassure her.

Miss Riza didn't protect them.

Alphonse nearly lost his life because all she was good at was waiting.

And she… She was friable and weak. She had been unable to do anything but stand at the sidelines and become a pawn for the Homunculi's twisted game. A bargaining chip to be used against Ed and Al.

All she was good at was waiting and watching. Never the one to fight, her voice always silenced.

Weak.

Pathetic.

All of those words rang true. That was all she could be, all that she had been reduced to. And because of that, she…-

The phone stationed beside her bed let out a shrill ring, forcing Winry out of her self-deprecating thoughts with a loud gasp. Whipping her head around, she stared through bleary eyes toward it as it shrieked again, and then again.

She considered not answering it, and allowing it to continue to ring. But something inside of her urged her to pick it up, in the hopes that it was Edward. After all, he knew where she was staying, and would know how to contact her that way. However, she thought to herself as she slowly reached up and gripped the receiver, it may very well be one of them calling to check up on her and make sure that she was where she was supposed to be. Curling her fingers around it, she held onto it for a few moments longer, tossing the pros and cons of picking it up in her mind. She supposed she could hang up if it was one of them and say that the line was faulty from the start. Plus, she realized, it if were Edward, she'd want to talk to him as soon as she could, even if it was only long enough to hear his voice.

Pushing through the dread that had pooled in her gut, she decided to pick up the line and take her chances. "Hello," she whispered into the receiver as she gripped it tightly and pressed it against her ear, bracing herself for whatever was on the other end of the line.

" _Hello Winry,"_ Gracia Hughes replied warmly. _"I wanted to call and see how you and Alphonse were doing. I'm sure you both have heard what happened, and I wanted to call and make sure you two were okay."_

For a split second Winry thought she had somehow known what had happened beneath the tunnels, and the minuscule sense of reassurance she felt the moment she recognized Gracia's voice vanished. But then, she realized that it would have been impossible for her to know. Like she had once been, Gracia was still an innocent bystander in all of this. Her ignorance was what was keeping her blissfully unaware of the horror that had befallen Miss Riza and Colonel Mustang.

Winry swallowed the lump in her throat, trying her best to steel herself in preparation for answering the older woman. Because the last thing she needed was to drag her into this. Nodding her head hurriedly to fool herself into believing she was okay, Winry replied, "We're alright, Mrs. Hughes."

However, something in her voice must have sounded off because her tone immediately changed. "Winry… What's wrong?"

Winry flinched the moment those words left Gracia's mouth, silently berating herself for allowing whatever she felt escape beyond her lips for the older woman to hear, and even more so damning herself for picking up the phone in the first place. Even then the thought that she had been too weak mentally to even hold back her emotion crept back into her mind. Always weak, always weak.

She forced herself to swallow back her emotions and push away the tears that had begun to sting the corners of her eyes, telling herself that she could be strong for just a few minutes longer. After inhaling through her nose, she answered, "It's nothing, Mrs. Hughes. It was just… a very long day."

The older woman seemed to pause on the other end of the line, likely weighing what Winry said and how she actually sounded in her mind. After a few additional moments of silence, Gracia seemed to give in the the prior and said, "Your first week sounds like it's been pretty challenging, Winry."

An understatement, Winry thought bitterly to herself, though she refrained from saying it out loud or indicating it for fear of tipping Gracia off further. "It has been," she admitted quietly. "But I've got Al here and he's been a very big help." A bigger help than she could ever give him credit for.

"I'm glad to hear that he's been helping out," Gracia replied, a more cheerful note in her tone. "It sounds like you were pretty busy just now, so I'll cut right to the chase, okay?" Her pause gave Winry enough time to nod and hum in reply before she continued. "I wanted to call and see if you and Alphonse would be interested in coming over for that dinner we discussed a few nights ago. I bought a roast the other night at the grocery store and some ingredients for an apple pie." With a light chuckle, she added, "Elicia would love to show you how good a helper she is with it too."

At the little girl's mention, Winry felt the smallest of smiles tug at the corner of her lips. Despite everything that had happened to them, and to Elicia and Gracia Hughes, those two were still moving on, still going. Even though their world had been torn to shreds by the military and the corrupt cause it stood for, they still found a way to reach out to others to make them feel better. And at that moment, Winry could feel that. Feeling her shoulders and body relax, Winry nodded into the phone and said, "Al and I would love that, Mrs. Hughes."

"That's great to hear, Winry," Gracia replied, a smile in her voice. "How about six tomorrow evening."

"That sounds great… Thank you," Winry replied.

"That sounds great," Gracia responded. "I'll expect you tomorrow around six then. And Winry?"

"Yes…" she answered stiffly as a feeling of dread washed over her.

"If you ever want to talk, my line is always open," Gracia said. "You can call me anytime, day or night, okay?"

"Okay," Winry replied before the older woman gave her one final salutation. When she said her final goodbye, she slowly eased the phone away from her ear and reached up, fumbling around on the nightstand until she found its cradle. At last hanging it up, she wrapped her arm around herself and hugged her legs to her chest once more, burying her face into her knees. Before her self-loathing could surface again, however, she heard a soft knock on the bedroom door's frame. Looking up, she saw Alphonse standing in the doorway, soul-fire eyes watching her intently. Nodding toward the spot beside her, she murmured, "You can come in, Al."

"Oh okay," the suit of armor replied, slowly easing himself into the room. Stopping beside the bed, he lowered himself onto the ground beside her and pulled his metal knees up to his chest, placing his gloved hands on top of them as he turned toward her again. "I just got off the phone with Madame Christmas," he reported hopefully. "She said that our new information will help them out a lot."

The mention of their 'information' was enough to bring back enough memories of the events earlier that day, immediately dashing Winry's efforts at pushing back at them and keeping them at bay. With a small nod, she looked away from him and rested her chin on her knees, all the while hugging her legs closer to her chest. If she could forget them, even for a moment…

"Who," Alphonse began slowly. "Who was that on the line? Was it Brother?"

Suppressing the sigh that had been building up at the back of her throat, Winry slowly shook her head. She wished it had been him. Genuinely, truly wished. Because at that moment, she had the strongest desire to hear his voice. To hear him say that everything would be okay. That what he said still held meaning, and that it would all still ring true. But alas, it had not been meant to be. "No," she answered dejectedly. "It was Mrs. Hughes. She… invited us to dinner tomorrow. She said Elicia wanted to show us how good a helper she was and said that she'd bake an apple pie."

Alphonse gasped, the response that was normally filled with enthusiasm now sounding hollow and forced. "That sounds great, Winry," he said as he knitted his fingers together atop his knees. "I know how much you love Mrs. Hughes's pie. It will be nice for you to taste it again."

She slowly closed her eyes and exhaled. He was trying so hard to retain a sense of normalcy between the two of them. Winry wanted to hard to convey the same feelings toward him, but found it increasingly difficult with every passing moment. And honestly, she didn't know how he did it. How he was able to seemingly brush off what had happened, despite having been in a life-threatening situation. Maybe it was because of how often his life was on the line, though the thought hardly brought her any comfort. While she knew that the boys ran around and did things they never told her she did, things she knew put their lives in danger, revisiting those thoughts brought about a feeling on unease. Because his reaction brought home the point that he had put his life on the line more times than that one time. He was _used_ to almost dying.

And that, she thought, was something she never thought he would be able to feel. Just as she was about to open her mouth to respond, a small tap on the window drew her attention away. Both of them turned toward it and saw a figure standing there, shrouded by the shadows produced by the setting sun. Winry's heart leapt in her chest, and all earlier attempts at hiding her emotions vanished as she emitted a loud yelp, gripping Alphonse's arm as he too jumped.

* * *

"Thank you again for doing this for us," Alphonse said as May re-tightened the straps on her shoes. "We really appreciate everything you've done for us so far. And," he added sheepishly as he rubbed the back of his helmet, "I'm sorry we screamed when you first got here."

"It's okay." The young girl said as she offered him a small smile. "I didn't really announce my presence. And to answer what you said before, you seem like nice people. After all, you brought me back Xiao Mei in one piece. And well-fed," she added, and her furry companion sniffed enthusiastically. "You're just…" she continued as she absently patted the panda bear's head, "Caught in a bad situation."

Alphonse slowly nodded in agreement, his steel shoulders slumping. "Yeah… A bad situation."

"Well," she said as she rose to her feet, angling her body away from the window to face them better, "If it's any consolation, I think you're both really strong with everything you're doing."

He saw Winry shift out of the corner of his eye on the other side of the room, closing in on herself as she leaned against the couch's armrest. Suppressing a sigh, he turned his focus toward May and said, "We're just doing the best we can to remain strong. My brother is up north alone with one of them and I just… Want to make sure that she's alright. She's really worried about him being up there essentially alone. But if I remain strong for her, then maybe I can take some of the stress off of her…"

The girl nodded, though a frown crossed her features. "But what about you?"

"Huh?" He looked down at her and tilted his head slightly. "What do you mean?"

She nodded toward him and elaborated, "What I mean is: What about you? You're trying to stay strong for her and your brother, right?" When he nodded, she continued, "Well, how are you going to stay strong for yourself?"

He made a move to speak, but then stopped. "I… I don't think I follow. I'm sorry," he added, rubbing the back of his helmet.

Her expression changed slightly, her eyes reflecting a sort of sadness in them. "You're doing so much to take care of everyone else that you aren't looking out for yourself." Glancing at his left knee joint, she observed, "You're creaking a little right there when you move. When was the last time you oiled it, Alphonse?"

"Uh…" He paused, realized that he didn't know when he had last oiled his joints. Surely it had been recently… Right? But as he searched his memory banks, he found that he couldn't remember consciously picking up an oil can. Instead, all he could remember was times when he would have normally done it, but ended up choosing not to. "I guess… I don't know…"

May put her hands on her hips. "You need to take care of yourself, Alphonse. Not just so you can protect your friends, but so that you can protect yourself."

He flinched, knowing she was right.

Seeing this, her expression softened. "What you're doing is so brave, Alphonse. You and your brother are fighting real-life monsters while also trying to keep your friends safe. But," she continued, gesturing to him, "It's going to wear you down eventually, even someone like you." Taking a step forward, she reached out and offered her his hand.

Slightly confused, he raised one of his gloved hands and rested it in hers. Looking down at it, she traced the curves and valleys he had naturally made by closing his gloves into fists. "You won't wear yourself out physically, but instead you will mentally and emotionally… If you don't, then you might not be able to protect those you care most about." Turning her worried eyes up and toward him, she pushed his hand into a fist and gave it back to him, "Will you please take time for yourself? Not just for your brother and friends, but for yourself too?"

Taken aback by her kindness, he drew back slightly. Aside from their few conversations, he hadn't really talked to her. He knew that she was pursuing a Philosopher's Stone and that it was the main reason she was in Amestris. She had stayed behind because Scar had left to go North and had refused to go back home until she had her hands on one. But despite her desire for one and the fact that she may have very well been helping them to get closer to it her concern sounded so… Real. And that was both unexpected and yet strangely warming.

"I…" She was right, he realized as the little knot that had tangled itself in his soul twisted and jerked. Now that he was thinking about it, he realized that he hadn't allowed himself to process what had happened. He could have _died_ earlier that day, and yet he had acted like it was something that could be easily brushed off. Glancing over his shoulder, he eyed Winry's balled up form for a few moments. He had only been considering what had happened between her and Lust, but not about his role in the entire ordeal and just how much it had affected her. He believed himself to be almost invincible, and though he had feared his mortality the moment Lust placed her finger on his blood seal, he had had a sense that he would be alright in the end… At least at the time.

But looking back he realized how close he had been… And just how scared he should have been.

He slowly nodded his head. "I will… Thank you." Alphonse meant it too. Genuinely.

She smiled. "Of course. And if you ever need to talk, you know where to find me." Gesturing to the window, she said, "I should get going. The General is expecting me in a little while."

"Oh, right," Alphonse replied. "Again, we really thank you for what you're doing."

She nodded as she climbed up on the windowsill. "I'll be back around the same time tomorrow then." And with that she was gone, disappearing into the night, leaving Alphonse and Winry alone to collect their emotions and prepare for the new day.

* * *

With the idea that their plan up north was moving faster than it had been before, Lust hurriedly descended down into the tunnels below to seek council from their Father. She had a general location for their fifth and final sacrifice, and without anyone immediately available to go, she feared that they would vanish before she even had the chance to find someone else to go.

Stepping into Father's throne room, she glanced around to see that Father, Gluttony, and she were the only ones present.

The portly Homunculus eagerly turned around the moment he caught whiff of her scent. "Lust," he cried as she slowly meandered over to them. Jumping up from where he had been seated on the ground, he ran over and wrapped his massive arms around her.

Her body immediately tensed and her skin immediately began to crawl. No doubt a reaction engrained into the Lieutenant's memories and body. As she wrapped one arm around him and patted him on the head with the other, she moved introspectively to see if the Lieutenant would react. But when she didn't and hung back, Lust frowned.

How dull.

"Lust."

Hearing her name, she looked up to see Father watching her.

Chewing her lip, she gave Gluttony one final pat on the head before gently prying herself out of his grip.

"Come here," he called to her, curling his finger and beckoning her toward him.

Lust's gaze fell to the floor and she slowly made her way over to him, stopping just before his throne.

"Tell me, my child, what was the reason for your actions today?"

She pressed her lips together and slowly raised her head, watching as he leaned his elbow against his arm rest and rested his cheek against his fist. When their eyes met, he raised a brow expectantly, silently demanding that it would be in her best interest to explain herself. Averting her eyes from his direct glare, she answered, "My thought was that I could back one of our sacrifices into a corner in order to force him to reveal the location of another sacrifice."

"And yet one of them ended up in pieces on the floor," Father observed. "That hardly seems like a fruitful endeavor."

She cast her eyes away and toward the floor, feeling his disappointed glare focused on the top of her head. "I… apologize," she murmured. "But my belief was that if I could tamper with their weaknesses, their emotions, then I could manipulate them more appropriately."

"With their emotions, you say," he asked, a touch of curiousness in his tone.

When she looked up at him, she saw that his brows were raised in such a way that it matched his inflection. Lust nodded. "Yes, Father. The sacrifice, Alphonse, and his companion both have weaknesses I've been able to employ. All thanks to the Lieutenant's memories."

"Is that so," he muttered in reply. "And those 'memories' you have called upon. They have proved helpful?"

"Yes, Father."

His eyes narrowed. "While I understand your desire to find out final sacrifice, I want to make sure that the body I have given you is not destroyed in the process. I am uncertain how well your Stone will hold up if I am to transfer it a second time." She nodded in understanding, but he continued by adding, "You mustn't allow the soul that still inhabits its former body to cause you damage to your Stone. Because if it continues to fight back and damage it beyond repair, I will be unable to salvage you."

The Lieutenant chose that moment to react and push, provoking Lust into shoving her back and into the deepest recesses of her mind. At least, Lust found herself thinking as she performed the task with minimal effort, it was a lot easier to do. The Lieutenant's soul had grown weak, almost incredibly nonexistent in its efforts. If anything, it was nothing more than an annoyance at that point…

"Have you no success in absorbing her soul?"

Pulled from her thoughts, Lust looked up at him. "No. I have not," she answered. "Despite the fact she's growing weaker, she still remains relentless."

He lifted a brow. "But the soul is growing weaker, you believe?"

"Yes," she answered, a smile tugging at the corner of her lip. Since the incident that occurred hours before, the Lieutenant had hardly stirred. It seemed that all that fighting and her newfound 'resolve' had worn her out. Tugging lightly at the bond between their souls, she confirmed that it was still there, gripping her as tightly as it had been before. Now all she needed was to continue her steady advance. "And I can assure you that it will soon be mine."

* * *

"Sirs," the soldier slowly said as he lowered his hand. "I have terrible news to report from Central. It would seem that the Fuhrer has succumb to his illness. He… passed away earlier today."

Olivier had expected the news sooner or later, but even then it seemed like a shock. The room's atmosphere almost immediately changed, leaving an almost palpable tension. The soldier, likely sensing it, swallowed and added, "If you would like me to relay them a message in response, I would be more than happy to—"

"That won't be necessary, soldier," Raven responded as he got up from his seat, cutting the man off as Olivier rose to her feet to address him. "As we will be contacting them shortly anyways. General Olivier has graciously accepted a position in Central."

The soldier appeared surprised, and his eyes immediately wandered over to Olivier, watching for a confirmatory nod or acknowledgement of his comment. On the flip side she could feel the General's eyes, as well as the eyes of the Homunculus, boring into the back of her head, they too waiting for her response to Raven's surprise announcement. It became clear to her that they had backed her into a trap, setting in motion the idea that she had abandoned Fort Briggs, and that the moment the soldier left the room it was possible that the news would spread, and questions would be asked. On the other hand, however, if she outright denied the superior General's claim, then the consequences of her actions would likely cause a chain of events stemming from Central Command to occur, whether it was a more public display of her removal from power or a more brutal approach to remove her from her seat, seeing that she now knew more than she needed to about the military's vile scheme.

Without giving any visual indication in regards to her thought process, she stated, "There will be no need for that, soldier. I want you to leave here without acknowledging anything you have learned. Only when the proper announcement of the Fuhrer's death has been made may you gossip. Is that understood?"

Her final words more a statement than question, she watched as the soldier lifted his hand to his head and saluted her, his expression mirroring his silent understanding of her words. He knew by her tone that the flow of information did not stop with Fuhrer Bradley's death, but also extended to Raven's words. "Of course, sir. I will refrain from reporting anything until given the proper permission." Lowering his hand, he added, "Is there anything else, sir?"

"No," she replied evenly. "That will be all."

All three sets of eyes watched as the soldier gave them a salute in closure before ducking out of the room to return to his post. When the door had closed and, without giving them another glance, Olivier turned her focus to the soldier's exit, indicating that her meeting with them had adjourned. At that moment she knew that whatever else they had planned was likely set in motion by the 'death,' or murder she surmised, of Fuhrer Bradley. And right then she needed to confirm what she could with those who were also aware of their predicament.

"Oh General," Raven said as he stepped in front of her, blocking her path to the door. "You haven't forgotten about the Homunculus, have you?"

"You mean him," she growled as she tore her glare away from him, her eyes settling on 'Mustang.' "I have nothing left to say to that abomination of alchemy, and I believe you have already told me everything you wanted to say on the matter."

"No," Raven replied. "The other Homunculus. And regardless of whether or not you believe this meeting has come to an end, we need you to give the order to return the Homunculus to where it came from."

She narrowed her eyes. "Don't you think we have enough to worry about right now? The Fuhrer is dead. It hardly seems like the time to argue about such a trivial matter." She made a move to push around him, and he once again impeded her path.

"It may seem trivial to you at this moment, but the fate of this fort depends on whether or not that monster is returned to its place beneath the ground. If it is, the North and Fort Briggs are both guaranteed their safety. And besides," he added with a mischievous smirk, "You are still in a place where you must follow direct orders from a superior, are you not? Especially one you have joined league with."

Olivier tightened her jaw, her lips curling back as she stared down the higher-ranking General.

Knowing that he had her cornered, he took a step forward and closed the distance between them, standing just a few inches from her. Placing a hand on her shoulder, he gave it a firm squeeze. "Give the command, General Armstrong," he muttered without tearing his eyes away from the men stationed at the door. "The very fate of this fort and all the men inside depend on its safe return… And they ultimately depend on your call."

"What if I choose to give the order on a later date," she asked evenly, her eyes flickering momentarily to the Homunculus as the corner of its lip twitched upward before turning back to glare at him out of the corner of her eye. "After all, you have given me an extreme wealth of knowledge on the matter. I might need time to reflect on what you have given me."

Leaning closer so that his lips hovered just above her ear, Raven whispered, "Then you can count on every last soldier in this fort perishing."

She pursed her lips and clenched her jaw, silently cursing him for backing her into a corner. It seemed they believed they had the upper hand.

"Is that a refusal, then," he inquired. "Because if so, I can give the order and you can watch them die one by one."

Tearing her eyes away from him again, she glared at the Homunculus, who had his elbow propped on the table and his chin resting on his fist. When he felt her eyes on him, he lazily raised his eyes to find and lock on hers, a malicious smirk tugging at the corners of his lips. She felt the hairs on the back of her neck bristle and stand on end the longer she matched his unwavering glare. Something about his almost nonchalant attitude did not settle right with her, as though it would be he who would carry out those orders. His supposed 'abilities,' aside from his regenerative capabilities, were a mystery to her. From what Fullmetal had described, it seemed unlikely that his Flame Alchemy would be of any use to the Homunculus. But even he was not entirely sure whether or not it was able to wield it. He had mentioned it trying once, and failing, but with a Philosopher's Stone, he told her cautiously, anything was possible.

She needed to remain vigilant it seemed if she wanted to keep her fort safe. And if that meant bowing to their whims for the time being, then she supposed it had to be done. Olivier would not go quietly, however, and decided right then and there that she would infiltrate their ranks at Central Command in an effort to thwart the monsters who dared to challenge Amestris and its citizens. And once she did, she would make sure to show them the Briggs way.

Breaking their eye contact, Olivier shoved past General Raven and toward the door. When her hand hit the handle, she heard him take a deep breath in retaliation. With a mild scoff, she pushed it open and barked, "You there," to a soldier stationed just outside of the door. He jumped, surprised by her sudden appearance, and quickly stood at attention. "I want you to tell the men guarding the beast who attacked us to prepare to bring it inside and thaw it. And when you're done with that," she continued hardly, "I want you to make contact with the maintenance squad and tell them to meet me by Gate C in thirty minutes. Understood?"

The soldier opened his mouth for a moment to question the order but, then realizing his place, shut it and instead raised his hand in a salute. After he found his bearings, he nodded swiftly and uttered, "Yes, sir."

She gave him a salute in dismissal and turned away from his slightly bewildered expression, slamming the door of the meeting room behind her. Crossing her arms over her chest, she watched as Raven and Mustang both rose to their feet, both wearing expressions of sheer satisfaction on them.

And it sickened her.

* * *

They arrived at the small Ishvalan settlement just after dark, Izumi leading the way while Scar trailed behind to cover their tracks. It seemed reasonable enough. After all, what they found in the tunnels below gave them reason to believe that something had been down there.

Once they had uncovered it and crept down into the darkness, it didn't take long for them to figure out that the tunnel led in both directions, and was massive in comparison to what Izumi had imagined before. Rather than the crawl space she had pictured, she was instead greeted by something that could easily accommodate something larger than a tank, leading her to the question of what exactly had created the tunnel.

In that amount of time, Scar had vanished and returned, bringing back two small burning sticks which produced just enough light for them to see a few feet in front of them.

That was when she noticed what appeared to be claw or finger marks on the walls. After investigating them and running her fingers over them, she determined that something with massive hands had likely torn the ground apart, and that it wasn't alchemy alone that created the intricate system.

Their time there was brief, but Izumi was satisfied by the wealth of knowledge they acquired from the trek. Because not only did she confirm the location of the tunnel that ran beneath Briggs, but she also gained enough intel to determine that there was possibly something down there. And if the time came when they would need to use the underground system, she would be sure they were prepared.

"Mrs. Curtis?"

Izumi jumped slightly as the voice snapped her out of her daze. Looking up, she realized that Dr. Marcoh and his adjunct, Yoki, if she remembered correctly, were eyeing her quizzically.

Seeing that they he had her attention, Marcoh cleared his throat and asked, "Did you discover anything, Mrs. Curtis?"

She glanced over to her side and realized that Scar was no longer there, likely gone to fetch firewood or to ensure that their tracks had been covered well enough. Returning her focus to Marcoh, she nodded and said, "I was able to locate the tunnel our correspondent told us about, and found that it was… bigger than I had imagined." When Marcoh raised a curious brow, she elaborated, "It looked to me that it wasn't the product of alchemy, and I determined that there was something else that may have had a hand in creating it."

His brows knitted together. "Like what would you say?"

Izumi paused. That was the thing she was unsure of. Aside from seeing what appeared to be massive scratches from something's nails, it was difficult to determine what exactly could have created the marks – whether it was a Homunculus or some other alchemic monstrosity. She shook her head. "I'm not sure," she admitted. "All I know is that it was something large."

A frown found its way to the doctor's face. "It may be difficult to plan for a journey down there then," he noted, to which she nodded in agreement. "If things grow rocky and we are forced to use it, we will have to make sure we plan accordingly."

Again she nodded, knowing that what he said rang true. Still, no matter what could be down there, she would do whatever it took to make sure that they made it to Edward if need be. Because the very last thing she would do was abandon him after all that he had been through. Despite the thoughts that continued to roll around in her mind, she decided that a change in topic might prove beneficial. After all, she thought to herself as she took a seat at the table, they were unable to move at that point. And there was still another reason for their journey up there.

Her eyes fell on the book sitting on the table in front of Marcoh and Yoki. Motioning to it, she asked, "Have you discovered anything in regards to the notes?"

A frown found its way to the doctor's face. With a defeated shake of his head, he muttered, "I'm afraid not. Even with the rough translation Scar gave us, I still haven't been able to discover anything that could even be considered a direction for the notes."

She sighed along with him. If Scar and Dr. Marcoh were unable to make sense of the notes, then it would prove difficult determining what the prior's brother had discovered. But if it did have to do with the fate of the nation, then it needed to be deciphered, and fast.

As she picked it up and glossed through a few of the pages, Izumi's mind couldn't help but wander back to her eldest pupil, knowing full well he had the capacity to figure it out.

* * *

The ride to Central Command had been a quiet one that morning. Shortly after May had left, Winry excused herself and retired, closing herself in her room for the night. And although she said she was going to sleep, Alphonse could hear her getting up and shuffling around on occasion.

Though she never came out to see him.

Once day had broken, he got up from his spot outside of her bedroom door and knocked, thinking that he would have to go in and wake her like he had when they were younger. Like his brother, she too liked to sleep in. Instead, the door to her room opened without him having to, and he saw her standing there already fully clothed. Or rather, still dressed in the clothes she had worn the previous day, wrinkles and everything.

Stepping around him to head toward the door that led into the hallway, she beckoned him to accompany her downstairs for breakfast, but said little more after that. Every attempt he made at speaking to her was met with some resistance, and every time she did open her mouth to speak, she would nervously glance around and eye the strangers around them and lose her train of thought.

It was the same when they were picked up by Jerso and Zampano; the words she spoke were few and far between. And when she did speak, it felt forced and hollow. The two soldiers even picked up on it and offered to stop somewhere to get something in case they had missed breakfast. Something to try and lift the young girl's spirits. But instead they were met with a shake of her head and a mention of time. They needed to arrive at Central Command on time that morning because 'her patient needed her.' Her reply dismissed them entirely and the rest of the ride was left in silence.

When they finally reached Central Command and they had been dropped off, Winry trudged toward 'the Lieutenant's' office with Alphonse in tow, though even to him it almost felt as though he were leading, despite trailing behind her. Her footsteps were small and uncertain, dragging along the closer they got. She was stalling the best she could.

"Winry," he finally said s they turned the corner and entered the hallway that would lead them to Lust. "Why don't you go home? I'll go in and tell her that—"

"No Al," she said as she shook her head. "I know that you're concerned but," she took a deep breath and sighed as they slowed and stopped outside the office door, "I agreed to do this job. And no matter what, I know what I have to do to keep everyone safe."

Though her words were strong, her tone was far from it. He could see the mask she donned that morning begin to fracture, but before he could contest her she knocked on the door. But no sooner had she done that and they heard 'the Lieutenant's' voice call for them to enter, he saw her freeze.

Alphonse considered snapping her out of it and turning her away from the door to lead her away, but when he heard the voice a second time, dripping with more annoyance than it did the first time he knew that they would have to answer. Reaching out, he turned the door handle and pushed it open, walking into the room before Winry. Stopping just shy of the entrance, he heard the door close behind him and glanced back to see that Winry had followed him, her eyes focused on a desk off to their left.

A look of surprise briefly crossed 'the Lieutenant's face, though it was quick to melt away. "I'll have to admit, I wasn't expecting you two to show up today," Lust observed with a smirk. "I'd thought you would for sure have stayed away."

Out of the corner of his eye Alphonse saw Winry tense. Taking a step forward, he raised his hands in appeasement and said, "We want to prove that we are keeping our end of the bargain."

She lifted a brow. "And trying to gain your own leverage, hmm?" Alphonse did not respond, keeping his hands balled up and at his side. Lust closed her eyes momentarily and shrugged. "That seems fair since I do have more than enough bargaining chips." Opening them again, her eyes wandered over to Winry, who still refused to look at the Homunculus. "You'll be happy to know, Winry, that we have a patient here for you." Winry pressed her lips together into a tight frown, her expression impassive. When the young girl failed to respond, Lust frowned and crudely added, "It would be wise of you to accept it. After all, you want leverage, right?"

Again Winry remained silent, keeping her eyes on the floor. And with every passing moment, the tension in the air grew thicker. Turning his helmet toward her, Alphonse prepared himself to speak when she at uttered, "Just tell me where he is."

The corners of Lust's lips lifted up into an impish grin. "Down in the medical ward. The staff there should point you in the right direction. It seems that a wire or something came lose in his automail leg."

Winry nodded in response and turned away to head toward the door.

Alphonse looked back and forth between the two of them before taking a step in Winry's direction. "Thank you for letting us know," he muttered.

As he turned away and toward the door as Winry opened it, he heard her reply in a sickeningly sweet tone, "You're welcome. I'll see you two later."

If he had skin, Alphonse was confident that it would crawl. Her tone was unsettling. There was clearly something she knew that they didn't. But whatever verbal cue he had heard, Winry had not picked up on it. She did not hesitate when she reached forward and took hold of the door handle, or even when she pushed it open.

Casting one last glance over his shoulder, he saw Lust lean back in Lieutenant Hawkeye's chair without giving them a second look. Then, turning away, he followed Winry out into the hallway and closed the door.

* * *

"You've made a wise decision, General," Raven murmured from Olivier's side, watching as the select group of soldiers began to smooth over the first layer of cement they had used to cover the hole where the still thawing beast lie. "Once he wakes up he'll be on his merry way, leaving the fort to continue to function as it had been."

Olivier drew her lips back in a thin line and wrinkled her brow, keeping her gaze locked on the crew as they worked. But after a few moments of silence, she saw him turn out of the corner of her eye to watch her. When he raised a hand and placed it on her shoulder, she did not flinch. Instead, she turned her glare toward him and uttered, "And yet I still have reason to doubt that claim."

Raven gave her a faux smile in reassurance and answered, "I can assure you that the fort will be in good hands, General Armstrong. And besides, what reason do you have to worry anymore aside from your attachment to this structure? Once we find a chair for you at our table, I'm confident that worry will subside, and Briggs will be just another memory."

Fighting against the urge to snap, she clenched the hand of hers that was furthest away from him to alieve her desire to. Keeping her tone even, she casually replied, "So you have no seat for me yet? Don't you think you're a little ill-prepared?"

His hand slid off her shoulder and he clasped them both behind his back, giving her a light chuckle in response. Shaking his head, he said, "You'll have to excuse us though, General. We weren't sure how receptive you would be to the idea. In all honesty, we were hesitant because of what General Mustang told us."

She eyed him critically out of the corner of her eye, watching as he moved his shoulders up and down. "And what exactly does that mean? How could that monster possibly know anything about me?"

"Believe it or not," he contended with her. "He knows you better than you think."

Suppressing the desire to curl her lip back with disgust over the notion, she observed, "So will he be joining me in Central along with you?"

"I'm afraid not," Raven replied with a shake of his head. "He and I will be staying up here until a more fitting commander arrives to take our place."

Olivier narrowed her eyes with contempt. "You've come here to dethrone me and yet you do not have the decency to escort me back to Central Command?"

Raven chuckled. "Don't worry, General. We'll be joining you soon enough. After all," he said as he turned his focus back toward the Briggs men as they continued to work. "There is still so much more for you to learn."

Her eyes slowly wandered up to glare at him out of the corner of her eye, watching as a self-satisfied smirk touched his lips. It made her sick just thinking about what they had planned and just how far a once proud and noble General had fallen in order to immerse himself into their 'noble order.' Deciding right then and then that if she were given the opportunity, she _would_ cut him down.

"I look forward to it then," she answered evenly before turning away.

When she made it a few paces, she heard him call, "Where are you off to, General?"

Olivier glanced over her shoulder at him to see that he was still facing the pit of wet cement, the same ridiculous smile on his face.

She swallowed back her disgust and steeled her resolve to wait before acting. Then, keeping her tone as level and and easy as possible, she said, "If I'm leaving tomorrow, I'd better make sure my essentials are packed. Since it seems like I'll be gone for a while."

The other General nodded, his eyes still on the drying concrete floor. "Smart move, General Armstrong. And since it's getting late, I likely won't see you until tomorrow morning. So with that in mind," he added as he glanced over his shoulder at her, "I wish you a good night."

Olivier had not the desire nor decency at that moment to respond, opting to toss her hair over her shoulder as she whirled around and marched toward her office.

It would be difficult, if not impossible, to relay the information to Fullmetal and her men. Though the young boy's room was on her route, she knew that stopping for even a hint of a moment could give them the opportunity to descend on them like a pack of scandal-eating mutts. The thought crossed her mind to address the newly promoted Major Falman, but even that seemed too risky. The man's life already hung in the balance, and if her request that he be moved with her failed to go through, then his fate was in their hands. Clenching her fists at her side as she rounded a corner, she silently damned them for backing she and her men into a corner. All she _could_ do at that moment was play their game until she was given the opportunity to successfully infiltrate them at Central Command. But even then she knew that information would be difficult to come by since their trust in her was already miniscule.

Olivier found herself halfway down the corridor that led to her office when a shiver traveled up her spine. She reached across her body and grabbed the hilt of her blade as her eyes wandered over to the hallway's wall, watching as the monster's shadow slowly crept across the wall toward her. Without turning toward it, she muttered, "What do you want, monster? I've already done all that you have needed of me. Allow me peace for one night."

"I know," it answered as it sauntered over to her and stopped by her side. "This shouldn't take too long. I just figured I'd catch up with you and make sure you had everything you needed for your departure tomorrow."

"There's no need. Raven already went over the details with me," she retorted as she took a step away from him. Then, out of the corner of her eye, she saw him shift toward her, his hand going down to his waistline. She drew the saber on her hip and whirled around, steel smashing against steel as he plowed into her, slamming her against the wall. With a grunt, she readjusted her grip and pushed back against the Homunculus, but its strength far exceeded the brute force Mustang could ever possibly generate.

His blade swept down the length of hers until it reached its guard. Twisting his blade around hers, he popped her saber out of her hand, flinging it across the hallway.

Her lips curled back as he lifted his to her throat and pressed it against her exposed skin.

"There," he said with a satisfied smile. "Now we have room to talk."

She pressed her lips together, adamant on her decision to not give it what it wanted. And from its aggression, she had a clear idea what it was after.

"And since it's just the two of us," he said as he leaned in closer, "You can tell me the truth about what Edward Elric told you. You don't have to worry, nothing will come of the boy."

"Hmph," she grumbled, shifting slightly to inch away from the stabbing pain of the cold steel against her neck. "What I told you before is the truth, 'Mustang.' Or whatever the hell they're calling you now."

His eyes narrowed. "For some reason that doesn't feel like the truth to me. Now," he continued as he pressed the blade more firmly against her throat. "Tell me what else Elric may have said."

"I will only continue to repeat myself," she growled. "The boy had no part in my gain for knowledge."

His eyes fluttered closed and he sighed. "It's unfortunate that a life will end because of your foolishness."

"Hah," she scoffed as she steeled her expression, despite the tightness she felt form in her gut. She had misjudged them, believing that her allegiance with them would have added some benefit to keeping her alive. It seemed, though, that that were not the case. "Then if that is how it will be, then so be it. The men of Briggs will question my absence, and you will have to be the deliverer of the news."

The monster's brows lifted. "Oh," he began, "Your life—"

"Sir!"

Olivier's eyes widened as the voice reached her ears. Glancing past the monster she saw a soldier, his eyes wide and his hand on his belt. She took a careful moment to glance at the Homunculus and saw that its eyes too were on the man and incredibly focused. Similar to how a predator would watch its potential prey.

The man took a cautious step back and gripped the handle of his weapon. Turning her focus toward him as the blade's cold steel pressed harder against the skin on her throat, she snarled, "This has nothing to do with you, soldier. It's a disagreement only the General and myself are able to settle. You are dismissed."

His eyes wandered away from her and back over to the Homunculus, his hold on his weapon firm. She saw him swallow and lick his lips, and she didn't have to look back at its face to know the type of stare it was giving the soldier.

"That's an order," she snapped loudly, drawing his attention away from the monster.

He hesitated again, and she nearly considered damning his unwavering loyalty, though she knew that it had been exactly what he was trained to do. Survive, protect, defend: all of those values had been pounded into every Briggs soldier when they were assigned there. But even so, his objective should be his life above her own. Ultimately, survival of the fittest was what was their mantra. So for him to value her life over his was incredibly foolish.

But he finally relented and accepted her order, taking a series of cautious steps back until he reached the intersection between two hallways. After he had given them one final glance, he stepped around the corner and vanished, though she, and likely the monster, knew he was within earshot. Still, it seemed to give the monster a sense of relief, as it immediately turned its attention back toward her.

However, its chilling stare was enough to even cause her heart to skip a beat in her chest. Because instead of seeing its two dark eyes, she instead saw one that reflected the same symbol she had seen on the other Homunculus's shoulder: The Ouroboros marking.

Steeling herself, Olivier kept her voice even and firm and growled, "So that's where you've been hiding your mark, you monster."

The corners of his lips curled up and into a devious grin. "It was wise of you to call off your dog, General," he answered, dodging her question entirely. "I would have hated having to stain the ground upon which Briggs stands with any Amestrian blood. Especially since it has stood that way for so long."

She scowled. "What is it you really want, Homunculus?"

"Just your cooperation, General," he replied, maintaining his stupid smirk. "As long as you do so, you and the men of Briggs will come out of this alright."

She found it difficult searching his expression, her eyes always being drawn back to the mark on its eye. It was unsettling, even for someone of her composure. Something about it suggested that it wasn't just for show; that it was connected to its power in some way. But how, exactly, she was not sure.

"Your orders are clear," the Homunculus continued as it took a step back, pulling its blade away from her throat. "And it would be wise to follow them."

Feeling a sudden area of warmth on her neck, she reached up and dragged her fingers over her exposed skin. Pulling her fingers back, she saw that they were covered by a fine layer of blood. When she jerked her head back up to glare at it, she saw that it had already turned its back on her to head in the opposite direction.

As if realizing she were watching it, it glanced over its shoulder at her, the red of the Ouroboros eye facing her, it said, "Just follow those orders. And remember… I'll be watching."

With a growl, her eyes drifted over to her blade, marking its proximity to her. But when she looked up again after determining it was too far for her to immediately reach, she saw that the monster was gone. Still feeling a tightness in the pit of her stomach, she stomped over to her blade and picked it up. Keeping her eyes on where she had last seen the monster, she slid it back into its sheath, knowing full well that somehow, someway, it _was_ still watching her…

* * *

The repairs on the soldier's automail took longer than Winry had originally planned, involving a few stops to the less than well-stocked automail supply room Central Command had given her access to. She had needed to construct a few new parts from pre-existing ones, but once she was finally done her 'customer' was enthused, singing praises about her incredible handiwork and begging for a way to contact her in the future. But even after all of that, the smile she replied with and the words she returned were almost lifeless and empty. To the soldier, it likely seemed that nothing was amiss; she had put up an excellent mask. But Alphonse knew better.

Her mood seemed to brighten when they stopped outside the office, where they would find Zampano and Jerso, though, since the chances she were there slim. After all, being an assistant to the Fuhrer kept her busy, luckily for them.

Alphonse knocked and paused, waiting to hear a confirmation that permitted them to enter. But when they did not hear one from either Zampano or Jerso, they both shared a wary glance toward the other. With a sigh, Alphonse straightened himself and reached for the door handle and turned it. He pushed the door open and stepped into the room first, ready for anything. But then, to both his surprise and confusion, he found himself staring at an empty room. Hearing Winry approach behind him, he looked over his shoulder at her and said, "I don't see them here."

She hesitated her advance, curling her hand into her chest as she looked past him with widened, fearful eyes.

Alphonse knew where her thoughts had immediately fallen, but he shook his head in the hopes that he could dismiss them. "It is after 5 after all. They probably just weren't able to wait around."

Winry pursed her lips together, clearly not convinced by his words.

"Maybe it's a sign we should walk to Mrs. Hughes's house," he offered as he edged out of the room and closed the door. "After all, it isn't that far away."

Still staring at the spot where the two soldiers should have been, Winry chewed at her bottom lip, silently tossing his words around in her head.

Hoping to steer her away from her worry, Alphonse took a small step toward the door, hoping his actions would beg for her to follow. When she did not immediately, his shoulders sagged. He knew this night would give them the escape they both desperately needed. Gracia was like a breath of fresh air in an otherwise suffocating, toxic situation. She needed this more than he. He reached out toward her and was about to utter her name when she turned around, a forced smile on her face. "You're right," she managed to say. "We should get going. I'm sure she'll need all the help she can get tonight."

Alphonse nodded slowly in response as she took a few steps around him and took charge on opening the door. And although he had advised her not to, he couldn't help but wonder himself where the two soldiers had gone off to…

* * *

The further from Central Command they got, Alphonse realized, the more relaxed Winry got. Or rather, as relaxed as she was able to become. He noticed in her step, and the way she held her head higher.

He was happy that Gracia had made that phone call, because without it he wouldn't have known what to do. Lust's words had a heavy weight to them, and the burden proved to be greater for her. The thought of telling Gracia had crossed his mind, but he quickly shoved it away. She and Elicia both were no part of this whatsoever. They had suffered enough. As long as he could continue to protect them, he would. Even if that meant shielding them from the Truth. And besides, he thought to himself as they made their way up the steps to the Hughes's apartment, stealing a glance toward Winry; this might just be able to be a safe haven for her too…

Stopping in front of the door, Alphonse glanced at Winry one final time to see that she was standing straighter, taller. An air of confidence around her he had feared vanished after their encounter with Lust.

Yeah… It would be safe…

He knocked on the door and the two of them listened. Then, just like clockwork, they heard a small yell of excitement though, surprisingly, not the patter of Elicia's feet across the floor and to the door. Instead the one who greeted them first was Gracia, who smiled widely the moment she saw them.

"Oh, please, come in," Gracia said warmly as she gestured for the two of them to follow her inside. Closing the door behind them, she followed along behind, ushering them toward the living room. "You guys got here just in time. I'm just about to pull out the pot roast."

A small smile managed to find its way onto Winry's face. "It smells delicious, Mrs. Hughes."

"I'm hoping it tastes that way," she answered. "Why don't you two take a seat in the living room and visit while I pull it out?"

"Sure," Alphonse replied as they rounded the corner. "It's been a while since I've seen Elicia. I can't wait to—" The moment his eyes wandered up to find the little girl, both he and Winry simultaneously stopped. Elicia was there, sitting on the couch just as they had expected she would be. But also there and seated beside her, working her fingers through the girl's hair and separating it into pigtails, was Lust.

Hearing them stop, she looked up at them and gave them a warm smile. "I was wondering when you two would get here. I was starting to fear I had given you both too much work."

Alphonse heard Winry's breath catch and he didn't need to look over at her to know what her expression was. And if he had a body, he knew he would wear the same. "I… What are you—"

"Winry," Elicia squealed as she bounced up and down in her seat. "Big Brother Al! Look, look! Aunt Riza is doing my hair for me!"

"Hold still now, Elicia," Lust instructed as she wrapped a hair tie around the hair she had bunched up. "I don't want to pull on your hair and hurt you." The little girl huffed but complied, converting her gregarious bounce to a wiggle.

"Why don't you two take a seat," 'the Lieutenant' added without looking at them as she nodded toward the empty chairs across from the couch. "And you," she added to Elicia playfully as she released the ponytail she had made, "Are all set. Do you want to go show your mom?"

"Okay," the little girl chirped as she excitedly jumped off the couch and twirled around, lifting the hem of her dress slightly in the small breeze she had created. Giggling, she exclaimed, "And look at what I can do! I can make my skirt fill with air!"

"That's amazing, Elicia," Lust replied with exaggerated enthusiasm. "You're so fast."

The little girl giggled again and stopped and proudly said, "I'm the fastest in my preschool class," as she turned around and eyed Winry and Alphonse.

Seeing that she wanted a response from them, Alphonse exclaimed, "Wow! That _is_ amazing, Elicia," as she skipped over to them.

She threw herself against Winry and wrapped her arms tightly around her legs, nearly knocking her off her feet. Looking up at her with a wide grin, she said, "Big sister Winry has a skirt! Will you twirl around with me too?"

The corners of Winry's lips turned upward Alphonse noticed, and for a moment it almost looked genuine. But then it faltered slightly, and it became clear that she was forcing it. Placing a hand on the little girl's head and lightly ruffling her hair, Winry said, "Maybe after dinner, okay?"

"Fine," the little girl huffed, though her annoyance was brief. After giving her 'older sister's' legs one final squeeze, she released them and brushed her hand over Alphonse's glove, prompting him to look down at her. Wrapping the fingers of one hand around one of the fingers of his glove, she gave it a small tug and said, "Will Big little brother Al twirl with me too? He has a skirt on too!"

"Ah," Alphonse began, feeling his soul roll with embarrassment at the comment. "Well, it isn't really a skirt. It's ah—"

"Where's Little Big Brother Ed," she asked as she absently swung Alphonse's arm back and forth, peering between he and Winry as her question was forgotten.

"He's up north with Uncle Roy," Lust answered.

Turning around to view her 'aunt,' Elicia exhaled sadly and said, "Uncle Roy never visits anymore. He visited us once after Daddy…" Her voice faltered as she trailed off. Her green eyes grew larger and her lower lip began to tremble as memories of her father began to trickle back into her mind.

Seemingly alarmed by this, 'the Lieutenant' slid off the couch in front of her and placed her hands on the little girl's shoulders. "It's okay, Elicia," she soothed. "You're alright."

"D-does U-uncle Roy not l-love us," the little girl sniffed as she rubbed her eyes with her fist. "B-because D-d-daddy isn't here anymore?"

"No," 'the Lieutenant gasped, drawing her into a hug. "Your Uncle Roy loves you and your mother very much, and would never stay away unless he had to."

Burying her face into her shoulder, Elicia choked, "B-but he's not h-here."

Guiding her hand up to steady the little girl's head against her shoulder, 'the Lieutenant' answered, "He had to go up north for work, sweetie. It was all very sudden. I didn't really get to say goodbye either."

The little girl seemed to understand, though it didn't stop her from curling her arms up into her chest, leaning her full weight against 'the Lieutenant' as she continued to hug her.

Without having to look at Winry, Alphonse knew exactly what she was feeling. This… couldn't possibly be the Lust they had encountered before, who had been so ready to tear them to shreds. This compassion she was showing was genuine. He could see it in her face. The way her brow was wrinkled. The downward curve of her lips. How soft and real her expression appeared.

Alphonse's soul churned with recognition, with need. It felt like it had been so long since he had seen her wearing an expression such as that one. And seeing her wear it now brought back a plethora of memories.

Like the time she learned what had essentially become of his body, and discovered that he was hollow inside. Instead of a forced sympathetic look, one that he oftentimes would receive from people that didn't seem to fully grasp the concept of it or human transmutation, he found that hers was genuine. The pain that had crossed her face had surprised him. And… it was strangely comforting to him. And warm.

It had been one of the rare occasions where he could feel actual warmth within his soul…

"Are you feeling better," he heard her say, pulling him from his thoughts. Looking up, he saw her cup the little girl's face in her hands and brushing her tears away with her thumb.

The little girl hastily nodded and sniffed again.

She offered the girl a warm, rare Riza Hawkeye smile.

From where he was standing, Alphonse could see that a small grin had found its way onto the little girl's face. Elicia nodded and replied with a quiet, "Yes," wiping away any water remnants from her cheeks.

"Why don't you go and help your mother, hmm," 'the Lieutenant' contended with the young girl. "I'm sure she could use your strength right about now."

Elicia nodded and lifted her two arms, flexing them the best she could. "I can do that," she answered.

"I know you can," 'the Lieutenant' replied with a grin. "Now go on. I'll catch up with you in a minute."

"Okay!" And with that she turned away from 'the Lieutenant' and hopped around Alphonse and Winry before she took off toward the kitchen. Alphonse watched as she turned the corner and waited for her footsteps to die off before he even considered turning back to face the Homunculus. If, he rationalized, that was her… Which he was unsure of at the moment. The thought had crossed his mind that it was perhaps the Lieutenant that were given control. And if that was the case, then it was entirely possible they would be able to talk to her. To make sure she was okay. But just as he raised his head to speak to her, he was cut off by another voice.

"What do you want?"

Surprised by the venomous tone in Winry's voice, Al whipped his head around to see that she was standing with her arms pressed to her side, her head lowered and her body trembling as she spoke.

"After everything you've done, what gives you the right to come here and destroy the sanctity of this home? When they've only _now_ begun to find a sense of normalcy after what all of you have done to them."

Her innocent smile melted away, and an impish smirk crept onto the Lieutenant's face. "I don't know what you're talking about, Winry. I was invited here of Gracia's own volition. It would have been rude to reject an offer from a good friend."

"She isn't your _friend_ ," Winry gasp venomously as she clenched her fists tighter. "And we aren't either."

"Really," she asked as she cocked her head. "Because we could be, Winry. My behavior when you first walked in certainly stumped you. I could tell by the look on your face that you believed me to be Riza Hawkeye, even if it was for just for a moment." Her violet eyes flicked over to Alphonse. "I could even see it in Alphonse's posture. My act was very convincing, wasn't it?"

Taken aback by her sudden offensive move, Alphonse did not answer, though not simply because he didn't want to give her the satisfaction, but because he was truly at a loss for words. She had been so warm. So genuine. He had truly believed that she had given Lieutenant Hawkeye control, and now to discover that she had been acting the part and had fooled them disturbed him deeply.

Leaning forward in her seat, she rested her elbows on her knees and her chin on her interwoven fingers. "We could go back to the way things were you know. Forget whatever animosity there was about everything that had happened before. After all, you two are alright, right? It can't be too hard for you to do."

With every work she spoke, Alphonse found that he couldn't believe what she was saying, and with such a relaxed expression too. What had happened yesterday had taken whatever faith Winry had had and torn it to shreds just as easily as Lust had done with his armor. And what had been left behind was the shell of a girl that had been so trusting, so caring that it was almost to a fault. That light in her eyes that had been there before had been extinguished by their entire ordeal, and it had begun the moment she learned about what had become of the Colonel and Lieutenant. And now she was being told to forget. To dismiss everything that had happened and act like she had been before.

He had tried to keep his emotions at bay about the entire ordeal. It had become easy for him to push aside for the sake of Winry. Because although he felt them, he did not have the physical body to experience them. Winry, whose heart still beat true, was forced to endure feeling the range of emotions elicited by it.

But even he could not ignore the anger that had begun to fester and bubble deep within his soul. Moving forward to block Winry from her as she raised a cup of tea to her hips, he started, "We can't just—"

"—We can't just forget that," Winry finished coldly. "And we will never forget what you are."

The Homunculus quirked a brow, her eyes wandering down to stare at Winry's trembling hands. After taking a drink, she placed her tea down and nodded toward them, "It looks like you might be a little cold. Or are you trembling from fear?"

"Winry?"

They both turned and whirled as Gracia rounded the corner with the pot roast in her hands. Her eyes immediately traveled over to the young girl and widened. Taking a few steps forward, she asked concernedly, "Are you alright?"

Alphonse too turned his attention back to his friend's face and watched as she raised her hand to her cheek, wiping away the few tears that had managed to spill over and run down her cheek. "Yeah. I'm… I'm okay," she muttered. "I'm just… a little emotional is all." Turning her gaze toward the Lieutenant, she said, "The soldier whose automail I worked on today. He had fought in Ishval and lost his arm. It's just been in the back of my mind all day and I can't help but think about it."

Lust nodded thoughtfully. "I hope it wasn't too much for you, Winry. My apologies if that was so."

"No," Winry said as she shook her head, slipping into her forced role. "It was… Good for me to hear."

"Oh Winry," Gracia said after she set the food down on the coffee table and put her hands on Winry's shoulders. "I'm so sorry to hear that. It must be difficult for you."

Winry sniffed and quickly shook her head. "It is, but it's something I have to accept," she answered. "Regardless of how I feel, the war still happened. I can't live my life pretending that it didn't. It was just surreal is all," she added with another shake of her head, the corners of her lips lifting in an attempt to trick Gracia into believing she was okay. "But I'm already feeling better, really. Because I know that I've helped him continue to live his life."

Gracia smiled and tilted her head. "That's the spirit, Winry. You're such a strong and positive young woman, always able to see the good in every person and every situation."

Winry's forced smile grew and she nodded earnestly. "Yeah… I try to," she answered quietly.

Gracia gave her one final pat on her shoulders before turning back to the rest of them to announce that dinner was officially ready. Lust immediately rose to her feet and offered to help Gracia carry in the rest of the food, following after her into the kitchen and leaving them alone for a moment. Taking the opportunity to steal a glance toward Winry, Alphonse turned his head in time to see her knit her fingers together, trying to stop them from trembling.

* * *

Once their plates were cleared and their stomachs full, Gracia graciously offered for them to follow her into the living room, dismissing the dirtied dishes and plates in favor of visiting. And despite Winry, Al, and even 'the Lieutenant's' protests to help, Gracia simply shook her head and said that visiting was more important to her than spending time washing dishes.

The entire meal had been unsettling. As they ate, Alphonse observed every person there and their interactions. Winry, of course, rarely, if ever, addressed 'the Lieutenant,' the only medium between them being Gracia. Although, even Gracia seemed to notice the nearly palpable tension that hung in the air the entire time. The only one who hadn't had been Elicia, who chattered and chirped enthusiastically through the entire meal, happy to have some of her 'most favorite' people in the world together.

After settling themselves down onto the couch, Alphonse managed to steal a quick glance toward Winry. He knew that there was nothing both of them would like more than to leave, but when he caught her eye and saw in her solemn expression a small message… And he agreed.

Under no circumstance would they leave Gracia and Elicia alone with _her_.

Snapping out of his thoughts as Gracia spoke, Alphonse turned his attention toward her as she addressed 'the Lieutenant.'

"Once again, I'm so sorry to hear about what happened. I have to admit that I'm still in shock," Gracia iterated. "Fuhrer Bradley seemed like such a wonderful man. Quiet and imposing, yes, but I've always felt that he had a warm heart."

'The Lieutenant' nodded. "Though I've only been able to be in his presence a handful of times, I've found that each time he was been incredibly competent and always kept the nation's and military's best interests in mind. It'll be odd having someone new in power, though I know it would have happened eventually."

Gracia bobbed her head up and down. "Yes. It's all just so sudden. I didn't even know he was sick. This new General that's temporarily taking the position, though. From what I've read he seems very knowledgeable and worthy of taking the reins."

As she lifted her cup of tea off the table, 'the Lieutenant' gave her an almost embarrassed smile and said, "He's very knowledgeable and wise. And though the semblance isn't too obvious at first, I feel I should mention that he's my grandfather."

Gracia gasped. "Oh my! I never knew that, Riza."

'The Lieutenant' shrugged her shoulders. "It's something we've kept between select parties for a while, but I suppose once he takes his position of power the press will do enough digging to bring it to light. And believe it or not," she added as she set the cup down again, "I've only known him for a few years. My mother was estranged from him for a number of years, and he hadn't realized he had a granddaughter until my paperwork passed over his desk in the East. In fact, it was all a big surprise to me too when he approached me with the possibility of us being related."

Gracia's brows lifted in surprise. "Wow, I would have never known, Riza. It's incredible some of the things we still learn as we get older."

When 'the Lieutenant' nodded in agreement, Elicia took the opportunity to reach over and tug on her mother's sleeve. "Mama, what's 'astranged?'"

She smiled at her daughter. "'Estranged' means that her mom lived very far away from her grandpa and grandma, so she couldn't always talk to them."

The little girl gasped and frowned before turning her sad expression toward Lust. "You didn't get to see your gramma and grampa when you were little?" When 'the Lieutenant' responded with a shake of her head, Elicia's expression faltered. "My gramma and grampa live by us and since you now live by us you can go see them whenever you want to. I can share!"

'The Lieutenant' chuckled and smiled. "I appreciate that, Elicia. Thank you."

"Elicia," Gracia called, prompting the little girl to turn toward her. "Why don't you go and get ready for bed?"

A frown crossed the little girl's face. "But Mommy," she whined. "I never get to see Aunt Riza or Winry or Big Brother Alphonse."

"You know that it's after your bedtime," her mother replied. "You can visit again _after_ you finish getting ready."

Elicia scowled and looked like she was about to fight back when 'the Lieutenant' stepped in and said, "I'll still be here when you're done."

The little girl turned her attention toward Lust, her frown deepening into a pout. With a faux sniffle, she asked, "Do you promise?"

'The Lieutenant' smiled. Holding up her pinky finger, she said, "I pinky promise."

Elicia eyed the Lieutenant's finger critically for a few moments before begrudgingly accepting her proposal, offering her little hand and finger up to Lust. "You pinky promise?"

Wrapping her finger around the little girl's, Lust shook their hands up and down. "I do. I pinky promise."

When 'the Lieutenant' finished shaking them, the little girl drew her hand away and gave her a determined nod. Leaping around the coffee table, she raced a few steps down the hallway before slamming to a stop. Turning around, she raised her hand and waved at Winry and Alphonse. "I'll be back soon, okay?"

"Okay," Alphonse answered, raising his hand to wave 'goodbye' as she whirled around and skipped off toward her room.

With a light laugh after hearing her daughter's door click shut, Gracia said, "I'll make sure to accompany you when it's her bedtime. There have been a number of times when she's kept Roy and Riza here well beyond the time they had meant to go."

Lust nodded and smiled as she poured some tea extract into a small bag-like container. "That's right. Although she never minded."

Gracia chuckled. "Elicia never minds when you read her a story. She says you have the best voice for it."

"That isn't exactly what I meant."

Gracia's brows knitted together. "Then what do you mean by that, Riza?"

"I mean Riza never did. Although I would say that I would mind."

"I'm afraid I don't—"

"I have to say," Lust purred as she dipped the teabag into the steaming cup of water and swirled it around. "You aren't a very observant friend, Gracia. I'm disappointed." Without looking up at her, instead focusing on the cup of tea she was concocting, Lust mused, "You failed to recognize my change in taste for tea. Or my selectiveness when it came to the food you served tonight. Or even how the light reflects differently off my eyes. For someone who calls herself my friend, you are incredibly unobservant." She stopped dunking the tea sack into her drink and looked up at her. "And it's incredibly concerning, especially with everything going on in this world. If you don't keep your guard up, you might mistake friend and foe."

Gracia's brows knitted together. "I'm sorry, I don't think I'm follow—"

Raising her other hand, Lust's spears elongated and shot forward, burying themselves into the drywall on either side of her head, eliciting a shriek of terror from the other woman. Moments later, the pitter-patter of a set of feet could be heard. Retracting them, Lust sat back in her chair and raised the cup to her lips, concealing a small trickle of red that had escaped the commissure of her lips. "If you value her life you will say nothing to her," she said into the cup.

"Mommy," Elicia gasped as she raced around the corner. "Are you okay?"

Gracia blinked a few times, still gaping, her eyes wide with shock.

"Mommy…?" Elicia took a few timid steps toward her mother.

A small noise, a combination between a gasp and a laugh, escaped Gracia's lips. Turning toward her daughter, she forced a smile. "Yes, Mommy is alright, dear. Aunt Riza just told me a funny story and I was laughing."

The little girl pursed her lips together and frowned, scrutinizing her mother's face. The tension in the air was thick and nearly palpable, to the point where Alphonse felt he would be able to physically feel it if he reached out and swept a hand through the air. But then the little girl nodded and smiled. "Oh. Okay, Mommy," the little girl replied as her worried expression melted away and gave way to one of relief. Looking back at her 'aunt,' the little girl quipped, "What was the joke, Aunt Riza?"

Lust smiled warmly and leaned forward to prop her elbows on her knees to get closer to the little girl, every hint of her sinister deed gone from her expression. "It was something you wouldn't understand, Elicia. But," she continued as she raised a finger. "If you are good and finish getting ready for bed without coming back out here, I'll tell you one just for you. How does that sound?"

The little girl's face lit up. "Okay!" She beamed and then flashed her grin toward Winry and Alphonse before scampering out of the room and toward her bedroom.

When they heard the soft click of her bedroom door closing, Lust's faux expression vanished and set the cup of tea down. Nodding toward the wall behind Gracia, she said, "It would seem that she got her naivety and lack of observation from her mother. It would have been difficult otherwise if we had to explain the holes in your wall to her."

"What… What do you want," Gracia stammered, raising her trembling hands to cover her mouth as her façade crumbled. "What… What are…?"

"A lot has changed since you last saw the Colonel and me," Lust continued evenly as her eyes slid over to Winry and Alphonse. "Isn't that right you two?"

Gracia turned her widened, frightful eyes turned toward Alphonse and Winry, silently begging for an explanation from the two of them.

Despite knowing everything he could possibly know about the situation, Alphonse found himself at a loss for words. The others they had told were able to handle such a thing because they had at least some background in alchemy. Gracia, however, had no such background. Or at least, did not have a background as far as Alphonse was concerned. And judging by her reaction, he assumed he was right.

"It's… It's true," Winry suddenly uttered. With a small gasp, Alphonse turned his helmet toward her and saw that she had begun to tremble, her eyes glued to the floor. "They've changed because… It isn't them."

"Winry…," Gracia whispered, keeping her eyes focused on Lust. "What... What do you…? I don't understand."

"It's like an infection. No… Like a disease," Winry continued. "The military they put their trust and lives in turned its back on them and put something in them. Something sinister… Something wicked. They're… Still inside but… But it isn't them controlling their bodies."

The corner of Lust's lips curved upward and she tipped her head to the side. "I suppose there's some truth behind that, Winry. Because you're certainly right, the military certainly gave us something: The bodies of these two soldiers." Turning her full attention toward Gracia, Lust mused, "You aren't very well-versed in alchemy, Gracia, though I assume you've heard of what we are before."

Gracia tore her eyes away from Winry to stare at Lust, the action seeming to delight the Homunculus. Her lower lip trembling, Gracia cautiously answered, "I… I don't…"

The amused expression fell from the Homunculus's face, and she sighed. "I'm surprised that you hadn't learned about us or our presence before, especially with all of the digging your late husband did-" She stopped momentarily, and her eyes lit up once again, as though she suddenly remembered something. The same sickeningly sweet expression she bore moments before returned, and she sneered. "But then again, I suppose he never did get the opportunity to tell you, did he?"

"Tell… Tell me what," she carefully pressed, her eyes widening.

"It appears he never gave you the memo. How unfortunate," the Homunculus answered. "It was about how the military has been functioning all these years. You see," she continued, "The government has been doing so much more than what you've believed it to be doing. For example," she said as she stole a glance toward Alphonse, locking eyes with his soul-fire sparks. "What you heard about that little girl who was made into a chimera? You know the one, I'm sure since your husband was briefly on the case." She paused for a moment, and waited for a look of recognition to cross Gracia's face. And when the woman's eyes lit up with horror, she smirked and went on. "Researchers have moved far beyond the primitive methods employed to create that abomination. In fact, some chimeras are nearly impossible to tell apart from ordinary humans. Alchemy has truly made some incredible advances, and what seemed impossible before is now possible. So it isn't too far-fetched that something like what Winry described could happen, though I'd have to say I'm hardly a disease."

Gracia's face paled as the information slowly seeped in and she began to process what they were saying. Piecing together the Lieutenant's aggressive behavior, the reveal, and, most likely, the information regarding her late husband. "So… What you're saying is… Is that…-"

"That's right," Lust reply coolly as she glanced down at the tea as she lifted it from the coffee table. Before taking a drink, she paused with her lips on its rim and watching with raised brows as Gracia curled her hands into fists in her lap, staring down at them as she attempted to process the information. "Your husband knew everything that nearly came to light. What is happening in this country and who the Homunculi are."

Before Gracia could answer, however, Winry uttered, "So… What you're saying is that you're the one responsible… For Mr. Hughes's murder?"

Alphonse tore his eyes away from Winry, watching as the Homunculus smiled and briefly closed her eyes, as though she were relishing their despair.

Holding the cup away from her lips, Lust slowly opened her eyes again and shook her head. "Unfortunately I'm not the one that did, although I've been told I played a role in it. Instead, it was another who dealt the final blow. And from what I heard, it was very thematic—"

"Get out."

Lust stopped, surprised, and turned her attention away from Winry to focus back on Gracia, who had risen to her feet.

"Get out," Gracia snapped. "I've heard enough from you." When Lust made no move to leave, Gracia stepped over to the door and grabbed the handle. "I want you out of here this minute."

The Homunculus smiled mischievously, rested her chin on her hand, and watched Gracia intently. "You'd kick out one of your few close friends? And just before I was going to help you tuck in Elicia for the night—"

"I didn't invite _you_ here," Gracia gasped, her voice faltering. "I invited Riza Hawkeye." Lust opened her mouth to retort back but Gracia cut her off and said, "You might say she's still here, but so would you."

Lust lifted a brow and then slowly rose to her feet. "So is this your way of abandoning one of your few friends? How heartless…"

Gracia froze, shocked by what the Homunculus had just so blatantly asked. Seeing that her mind had begun to spin, Alphonse quickly stood and lifted a hand to walk over and put on her shoulder, but was interrupted when Lust stepped past him and over to the coat rack. Collecting her jacket, she draped it over her arm and said, "You're right, though. I really should get going." Stealing a quick glance toward Winry and Alphonse as he stepped cautiously in front of his childhood friend, she added, "I'll see you two tomorrow then. Try to not stay out so late though. I believe it will be quite busy."

And with that she strode over to the door, stopping just in front of it to eye Gracia. The latter, still shocked, slowly released the door handle as Lust reached for it. Grabbing it, she pulled the door open and took a step forward so that she was halfway outside. Her violet eyes flicked around to all of them one last time before finally landing on the widow of Mr. Hughes. "I had a lovely evening, Gracia," she mused. "And you have a lovely little girl. Make sure you keep an eye on her though. Because I'd hate for something terrible to befall her as well."

And then she was gone.

When she closed the door behind her, Gracia stumbled forward and caught herself on it, twisting the lock shut with trembling hands. Before she could turn back to face them, however, the sound of small feet beating against the wooden floors.

"Mommy," Elicia cried as she ran over to her. Putting her hands on her hips as her mother slid down into a sitting position, she said, "You promised me that Aunt Riza would tuck me into bed! Why did she—" She trailed off when a small sob erupted from her mother. "Mommy," she asked as she slowly walked up to her. "What's wrong?"

After taking another deep, shaking breath, her mother wordlessly reached up and drew her daughter into her arms, pulling her into herself and burying her face into her hair as the tears she had been holding back were released.

Without a moment's hesitation, Winry slid off the couch and rushed over to her, collapsing down beside her. Releasing one hand from her daughter, she reached up and wrapped it around Winry and pulled her into herself as her choked sobs grew louder.

And finally, after holding it in for as long as she had, Winry at last let her emotions go, and cried along with her.

* * *

"Do you have everything prepared for your departure," Raven called back to General Armstrong as they strolled along past the cement pit the Briggs maintenance crew had been working feverishly to fill.

It seemed that it had been a night long process filling the hole the Homunculus had created, Edward had learned. A note carefully stashed in the bread on his dinner tray had, along with a few other words and instructions, indicated that the General had been 'recruited' to their side. In doing so, they were able to order her to return the Homunculus back the tunnel that led beneath the fort. And after he had quietly slipped out of his room to make good on the exact instructions he had been given, he confirmed with his own eyes that it appeared to be true.

He swallowed back the bolus of uneasiness that had formed in the back of his throat. Edward steeled his expression, however, as to not show the growing pit of restlessness in his stomach, hoping that he had covered his tracks well enough...

The lady General scoffed. "I've prepared enough," she replied brashly as they all slowed and then stopped in front of the sea of cement.

As her eyes scanned the area, Edward took the opportunity to do so as well, and noticed that there were a select few soldiers around. The rest had either been shooed away or had left the area to let the cement dry. But of the soldiers he did see, he could tell that they were a little… different. The way they carried themselves and the way they watched General Raven especially made him realize that they were from Central Command. He looked back up at General Armstrong to see that she too seemed to notice the surplus of soldiers from Central Command.

After giving them one final sweep, she turned her attention toward Raven and asked, "Where is Major Falman? I requested that he be one of the soldiers that accompany me to Central."

Edward's heart skipped in his chest and he quickly did another quick sweep of his own, finding that the grey-haired soldier was nowhere to be found.

"Unfortunately," Raven began as he shoved his hands into the pockets of his jacket, a faux frown on his face. "Central Command was unable to heed that request. It seems that it hasn't been long enough since he arrived here."

"I don't remember anything about that in the military bylaws."

He moved his shoulders up and down. "It isn't something I can control, I'm afraid."

Her lip curled upward as she zeroed in on 'Mustang,' who had been standing just beyond Raven, staring down at the cement. "Where is he then," she demanded, prompting the Homunculus to look up.

"Don't worry, General. He's still exactly where you left him."

"Then why doesn't that comfort me in any way?"

'Mustang' shrugged. "You have no reason to worry. After all, he's still one of my men. But for now," he added as the corner of his lip tugged upward, "Let's focus on you right now since you have a train to catch in an hour. You'll have a very packed schedule once you arrive in Central."

At that the soldiers who had been standing nearest them stepped forward and into their space. Buccaneer took a defensive step forward and raised his automail arm, but General Armstrong lifted her hand, calling off his advance.

"Although," Raven added as he nodded toward General Armstrong, "We still have to make sure there is room available for you once you arrive."

"Hmph." Placing her hands on her hips, the woman General lifted a brow. "You've backed me into a corner and essentially robbed me of my free-will, and yet you still haven't decided what you will do with me?"

Raven raised his hands defensively and laughed. "I can assure you that we will make the proper arrangements, General. I'm sure a position will open soon enough."

Armstrong narrowed her eyes, and Edward knew precisely what she was thinking. It was clear now that she would be nothing but a pawn to them, held there only to ensure that she is separated from her men at Fort Briggs. Anything to make sure that they divided as many of their allied forces as possible.

Looking back down at the sea of cement, his thoughts turned back to the Homunculus that no doubt was stirring beneath it, likely already back to work digging the tunnel like it seemingly was created to do. With General Armstrong gone and essentially their hostage, there was no telling what they would do.

Edward tore his eyes away from the ground and turned them toward Raven as a loud shriek erupted from the older General. He then watched in horror as a burst of red erupted from the General's abdomen. Then he fell, the two halves of his body separating before falling back into the still wet cement. His eyes widened, watching as the frozen, horror-stricken visage of the General slowly began to sink into the sea of wet concrete. His mouth hanging open, too in shock to even fully process what had happened, Edward slowly lifted his eyes to look at the offending party, watching as the corner of 'Mustang's' lip lifted upward.

"There," he mused as he wiped the blade of his saber off with his glove. When he had finished, his eyes raised to meet Armstrong's, and his sinister smile widened. "It looks like you're in luck, General Armstrong. It appears we just had a position open up."

* * *

 **Additional A/N:** _We'll find out more about what Edward did next chapter, as well as see more characters we didn't see much of this chapter. Thanks for reading! I hope you enjoyed!_


	15. Chapter 15

**A/N:** _I have no explanation for why this is up when I haven't updated my other fics, other than the fact that I just really love working on it ;_; Per usual, please, please,_ please _let me know if anything seems rushed, OOC, or vague because one minute I like this chapter and the next I'm kind of 'eh' about it. One thing I will point out is that I want you to remember that Al and Winry don't know the extent of the Homunculi's infiltration in their hosts, meaning that they don't know how many of their memories (if at all) they can access. This chapter is also the end of a very Riza-centric arc and the beginning of a Roy-centric one. Don't worry though, we'll still see more of her soon._

 _As always, thank you for the reviews, favorites, and follows. They mean a lot!_

 _I left a little tidbit at the bottom as a preview for the next chapter. In addition, expect to see lots of action next chapter, Izumi's team, the beginning of a new plot line that is exclusive from the manga/Brotherhood, and more interactions between characters who did not interact in canon._

* * *

"You _monster_."

Torn from the horrified daze he had directed toward 'Mustang,' Edward jerked his head around to see General Armstrong grab the hilt of her saber and take a threatening step toward the Homunculus. Before she could draw her weapon, however, two of the soldiers that had arrived from Central flanked her and grabbed her upper arms. The General responded by yanking at their grasps, which only seemed to make them hold her tighter. With a heated growl she narrowed her eyes toward 'Mustang,' drawing her lips back to reveal her teeth.

Unfazed by her outrage, the Homunculus lifted a brow and said, "It wasn't like you weren't thinking it yourself, General Armstrong. I simply responded to the matter more quickly than you."

She made an attempt to take a step toward him but was thwarted by the two soldiers that continued to hold her back. When Buccaneer and Miles moved to aid her, she twisted her head around and ordered, "Do _not_ interfere." The two men hesitated, both of them eyeing their fellow soldiers with disdain. The latter two firmly held their ground, their expressions blank. When they both received another look of warning from their General, they both slowly moved away, keeping themselves close enough to her she required their assistance. Satisfied by their obedience, she turned back to 'Mustang' and accused, "By killing one of your own? How cowardly."

"'Cowardly,'" he echoed, the beginnings of a smirk on his lips. "I think you misinterpreted my actions entirely, General. You see," he said as he took a step forward and tipped the General's chip up with his index finger, "You and I aren't all that different." She jerked away and snapped her jaw shut dangerously close to the finger he left hovering there but he only smiled and drew it away. "We both understand the law of kill or be killed; survival of the fittest. A mantra you've pounded into the heads of all of the men who follow you." He looked past her shoulder toward the two soldiers who were constantly by her side for a few moments before returning his eyes to hers. "Isn't that right?"

"I don't kill senselessly," she spat.

Both of his brows raised in mock surprise. "And you think that I do? If so, I have to say that I'm disappointed."

She scoffed. "Why else would you kill that buffoon? It's just like you said; If I had I at least had reason to."

The smirk on 'Mustang's' face slipped and he straightened his body, eyeing her as critically as she was him. "General Raven was unfit for the role that would have otherwise been given to him here. So I did what had to be done and dispatched him before the mistake affected the upper brass."

"Are you telling me that you are going to be in control here," she answered with a bitter laugh. "Because if you think my men will listen to someone as spineless as you, then you're about to be in for a rude awakening."

The devious grin once again returned to his face and he replied, "I never said that I would be assuming control here, did I?"

As though on cue, the group heard the sound of boots padding along the cement ground. The Central soldiers that were standing near Edward turned on their heels and raised their hands in a salute. Following their eyes, he looked up to see a face he hadn't seen since one of the last times he returned to Eastern Command: General Hakuro. Though it had been a few months since he had seen the high-ranking General, Edward still couldn't help but feel uneasy about his presence. He had learned very early on that Hakuro wasn't Mustang's biggest fan and that his hands were tied when it came to saying anything against him because he was also under General Grumman's command. When Grumman wasn't around to police them, the old General was quick to find fault in nearly everything Mustang did. And while Edward wasn't too keen on many things, one thing in particular that he and the Colonel had agreed on was that Hakuro's general dislike of him becoming a State Alchemist was taking it too far, especially after Edward had saved him when he had been taken hostage by a group of extremists.

It was almost ironic how Hakuro was in the position to work with Mustang, though, then again, he likely enjoyed the latter's predicament. Curling his hands into fists at his side, he watched as the General stopped beside 'Mustang' and swept his eyes once over the small group. They momentarily fell on Edward and they locked for a few seconds, but after apparently not seeing anything of particular importance in his face, they once again found themselves on General Armstrong. Reaching up and patting a hand on 'Mustang's' shoulder, the older General said, "Brigadier General Mustang does not have the rank at this time to assume command of this fort. But I, on the other hand, do, General."

The lady General scoffed. "I find it funny how you suddenly seem to be eager to work with Mustang, General. If I remember correctly, you shared a few choice words with me regarding him just a few months ago."

Unsurprised by Armstrong's attempt at throwing him under the bus, the old General said, "I'll admit that Mustang and I haven't always seen eye to eye, but one thing I know we both agree on and respect are our roles." When Armstrong took a step toward him, he lifted his wrist and glanced down at his watch. "If I'm not mistaken," he said, looking back up and nodding at the soldiers that restrained her, "You should have left already, General Armstrong. Your train leaves in an hour and a half."

The soldiers complied with his silent request and took a step forward. When the General showed resistance they gave her a forceful tug. She stumbled a few steps but then straightened herself, turning to look over her shoulder and toward the two soldiers who had flanked her the since Edward first arrived at Fort Briggs. "You two," she ordered, to which the two straightened. "I want both of you to make damn sure this fort remains in peak condition."

"Yes, sir," they answered in unison with crisp salutes.

"And you," she barked, stopping their advance as they reached Edward. Caught off-guard by the volume, he too straightened up. But then, for a brief moment, her face softened. Long enough for Edward to see, but short enough that he still questioned whether or not the lady General was capable of such an expression. "Fullmetal," she said in a more hushed, yet stern tone.

He swallowed and nodded confidently despite the two dark eyes that bored into the back of his head.

"Watch yourself."

He gasped quietly and straightened up, watching as she turned away. With a scoff she walked ahead and away from him without another word, leading the two guards toward the departure bay.

'Mustang' folded his arms over his chest and smirked as she passed him by. "Be sure to tell Lieutenant Hawkeye I say 'hello'—"

With a furious growl she whirled around and spat on his boot, prompting him to glance down at it for a few moments before turning a glare toward her.

"Oh," she replied in a devious tone as the soldiers yanked her away from him. "I'll tell her alright… Right after I skewer her heart."

A look of resentment crossed the younger General's face, and for a moment Edward could have sworn he saw the real Roy Mustang in his expression. But then it vanished and his steely demeanor returned. He turned his back to her and shrugged his shoulders. "If that is the greeting you wish to give her, then I will inform her before your arrival."

The General huffed and flipped her hair over her shoulder, keeping her head high as she led the soldiers at her flank away from the group, never once stopping to look over her shoulder and back after them. Edward's eyes flickered over to 'Mustang,' watching as the Homunculus narrowed his eyes with contempt toward her. He studied his expression, trying to determine whether or not it was the Homunculus itself who was watching after her, or if it was Mustang whom had reacted to her final words. Either way, the scowl on his face vanished and he quickly recomposed himself, turning his attention back to the remaining soldiers once he saw she had made it to the awaiting vehicle.

General Hakuro was the first to break the silence, clapping his hands together and stepping forward in an effort to draw their attention back to him. After a prolonged pause, Major Miles and Captain Buccaneer finally responded, turning lazy gazes toward their new General. Knowing that he at least had a fragment of their attention, he rubbed his hands together and said, "Well then, gentlemen. If you wouldn't mind, I would love a tour of your facilities here. It's been a while since I've been north, and I'm sure that a few things have changed."

Edward saw both men hesitate, clearly agitated by the thought of answering to their commander. But when the General raised an expectant brow, both of them deflated and accepted his order, albeit hesitantly. Stepping to the side, Major Miles gestured away from them and said, "I would gladly show you our facilities, sir, as things have changed these past few years."

"That would be perfect. Thank you," Hakuro answered with a nod. But after taking a step forward, his glance shifted back toward the spot where Raven's body had disappeared, sweeping over the small valleys and hills of cement that roughened its appearance. After his eyes lingered on it for a second, he turned back to General Armstrong's former subordinates. He nodded toward Buccaneer and said, "You there, Captain…?"

"Buccaneer," the behemoth rumbled through his teeth as with a wave of his hand. "If you would be so kind as to smooth out the cement for me, it would be greatly appreciated." The corners of Buccaneer's lips curled back into a sneer. When he was about to retort, Major Miles placed a hand on his arm. The two exchanged glances briefly and, after Miles seemingly won, Buccaneer huffed and turned away from them, heading off to find the tool he needed.

Hakuro nodded with satisfaction and beckoned for 'Mustang' and Edward to follow. As Edward made a move toward him, a hand latched down onto his shoulder. Edward swallowed as Miles's brows arched in alarm.

"There's no need for all of us to go," 'Mustang' replied in a cool tone. "Seeing that both Fullmetal and I have already seen the premises, it would be a bit redundant for us to go through it a second time."

Miles opened his mouth to counter 'Mustang's' claim, but was prevented from doing so when Hakuro lifted a hand to silence him. "That's quite alright, General. I'll catch up with you after then."

'Mustang' lifted a hand in salute, dropping it only when Hakuro turned away and signaled for Miles to proceed. The hand on Edward's shoulder tightened when Miles hesitated, and Edward subtly shook his head to encourage the soldier to go on. He could see the uncertainty on the Major's face, but he pretended to pay no heed and instead offered them both a small salute in dismissal.

Finally, reluctantly, Miles concurred with Edward's silent request and turned his focus back to the General. He watched as the two of them moved away, standing firmly in his place until Miles's brief introduction died away. The Homunculus appeared to have waited until that moment too, releasing its ironclad grip on Edward's shoulder only when they were out of earshot. Despite its connection to him being severed, Edward knew that their interaction was far from over. He tore his eyes away from the General and Miles. 'Mustang's' glare was already focused on him, a brow lifted expectantly. Edward swallowed the uneasiness that had settled itself in the back of his throat and straightened himself. "Look," he growled. "You know just as well as I do that General Armstrong lied to you about where she got her information." Placing his automail hand over his heart, he said, "It was me who told her everything, not Falman. So don't punish him for something I—"

"I know," the Homunculus replied nonchalantly, shoving his hands into his pockets and rocking back on his feet. "I was aware this entire time. After all, it would be incredibly stupid of me to believe that Vato Falman knew that much about Homunculi. Even with every reference text available he still wouldn't have been able to come up the information he had. So I rationalized it and came to the conclusion fairly quickly."

"Then if you knew why didn't you argue it with General Armstrong," Edward fired back. "Falman knows only what he knew before so there's no sense keeping him locked up."

"You don't get it, do you," the 'General' answered easily. "It doesn't matter at this point who gave her the information. Insubordination and conspiring against the government are both means for punishment, so there's no argument anymore." With a dismissive wave, he turned away and said, "He will face judgement tomorrow for the serious infractions he has committed by disobeying my direct orders. And as for you," he added, "You shouldn't plan on getting off so easily either. There will still be consequences for your actions as well."

He should have known that arguing with the Homunculus was a lost cause, but that still didn't stop Edward from watching after him with his jaw hanging open. There was no reasoning with it, even when he had admitted to being the one that fed the information to General Armstrong. Even though he had readily offered himself for a more valuable exchange.

"Hey," he yelped, taking a step toward the Homunculus, "I wasn't—" A beat later he found himself yanked forward and jerked up onto his toes.

"Listen close and listen well, _Elric_. Because I will _not_ be repeating myself," the Homunculus snarled, pulling Edward closer to himself using the fabric of his shirt for leverage. "You are forgetting that you are here on _our terms_. You have absolutely no say in what we do, and you sure as hell do not have any control over our decisions. You are nothing but a pawn to us, just as you have been since the beginning. So it's time you started _acting like one_ —"

Without warning, without thinking, Edward's automail hand shot up and clamped down on the Homunculus's wrist, stopping him mid-tirade. Its face soured and its lips curled back, and for a moment Edward felt his heart stall in his chest. But after a few moments it sprang back to life when he reminded himself of what was at stake. Tightening his steel grip, he returned the Homunculus's glare and growled, "You know… It's funny. You say that you have access to the Colonel's memories, so I can't help but wonder if you're remembering that time Mustang came and offered me the opportunity to be a military dog." The Homunculus's nostrils flared and its eyes narrowed, and he knew that it had dug deep into the Colonel's memories in order to find the pivotal moment they had both experienced. When he was confident it had extracted it and was analyzing its significance, he continued, "Then you'll also remember my resolve."

'Mustang' wrinkled his brows, eyes curiously scanning over Edward's face as he tried to understand Edward's rhetoric. And for a split second, Edward had to fight back the urge to laugh. It could claim to have Mustang's memories all that it wanted to, but it seemed, for the time being, that they were separate enough to not completely share every emotion associated with those memories.

"All he recalls," 'Mustang' challenged with a low growl, "Was that you were near the point of hopelessness."

Edward snorted. "Is that what he remembers or is it what you interpret it as?"

The Homunculus's lips curled back. "I don't see a point to your argument. You are wasting my time."

"My point," Edward said, "Is that I _was_ at that point of hopelessness. And yet, despite that pathetic look in my eyes, he still chose to believe in me and gave me the chance to join the military under the guise of one of their lapdogs… But certainly not for you. Not for the sole purpose of becoming one of your pawns." He applied a little more pressure to his grip on the Homunculus's wrist and saw its eyes flicker over to it. "I," he continued, "Am not a pawn. And neither is Falman… Your team… Alphonse… Or Winry."

An amused spark flickered over the 'General's' face but Edward stood his ground. "So is this a declaration of independence, Edward?"

Edward swallowed, knowing that he would need to tread lightly. "Far from it, actually." The crease the Homunculus's knitted brows formed slackened with its slight confusion, and once again Edward had to stop himself from showing any indication of how he truly felt: Fear, mixed with a small edge of lunacy. "I'm just reminding you or, I guess, _him_ what I'm capable of. What _we_ are capable of."

The Homunculus's eyes widened briefly, genuinely, as it processed his words and once again tried to find meaning in them. Edward allowed it the few moments it took to mull over them, already setting himself up to answer what it would inquire next. And once it had come to its own conclusion, it drew the corner of its lip back. "Is that a threat then, _Elric_?"

"No… A promise."

With a disgusted scoff, it released its grip and shoved Edward back. He stumbled a few steps before he caught himself and immediately straightened his body, squaring his shoulders toward the Homunculus as it turned away.

"You know; I think I finally have you all figured out."

The Homunculus stopped its retreat and tilted its head back slightly, turning its sights toward the ceiling. But despite its somewhat careless demeanor, Edward knew that it was listening.

"Envy… Sloth… Gluttony. Greed. Lust… Those are all of the Sins I've had the misfortune of crossing paths with so far. Five of the seven to be precise, all of them showing one way or another how they embody the sin they are named after. And right now, I think I have a pretty good idea which one of the two remaining you are."

Its shoulders shook as though it were biting back a laugh. Edward's lips curled back as it turned around to face him. But instead of the entertained expression he had so readily imagined it would wear, the Homunculus instead had its calculating eyes narrowed as it scrutinized Edward's words. Edward kept his glare steadfast as he locked eyes with it. Then, a seemingly entertained smirk emerged through the monster's glare and it relaxed. Shoving its hands into its pockets, it casually shrugged and said, "Is that so? Well then, color me curious, Elric. I'd love to hear what you—"

"Fullmetal."

Edward's concentrated confrontation suddenly interrupted, he jumped slightly and tore his eyes away from the Homunculus after a few prolonged seconds and found that Captain Buccaneer had reappeared, two smoothing tools in hand. Unfazed by both parties' surprise, the Captain went on to say, "You've been given cement duty," as he tossed on of the tools at him. Edward caught it and he continued, "The sooner you hurry it up, the sooner we can finish."

The Homunculus scoffed and Buccaneer fixated his glare on him. Rather than arguing, however, it instead agreed. "He's right, Fullmetal. It'll be good for you to finally pull your weight around here. We'll discuss this matter at a later time." He turned his back to Edward and took a few steps away, only stopping momentarily to nod toward Buccaneer before sauntering off toward the fort's main terminal.

He watched after the Homunculus as the distance between them grew, every footstep matching the palpatations on his heart that rang in his ears. Buccaneer's movement out of the corner of his eye ultimately drew him out of his daze.

"Did he say anything about Major Falman," the Captain urged, eyes still fixated on the spot the General had been before he disappeared around a corner.

Edward briefly glanced at him, but was quick to turn his attention away and toward to the spot he had last seen the Homunculus, his underlying fear that it would reappear nagging at him in the back of his mind. He swallowed and nodded. "Yeah…" Buccaneer shifted beside him and he could suddenly feel the higher-ranking officer's coal-colored eyes on him, urging him to go on. Edward chewed his lip for a moment while he recollected his thoughts, not allowing the weakness he felt slowly ascending his knees to overcome him. He had to remain focused on the task at hand. Had to remain objective about what he had heard. Falman's _life_ depended on it. "He said," he continued softly as his eyes briefly focused on a group of soldiers that seemed to have strolled right out from the barracks wandered into the boiler room, "That regardless of how much information Falman did disclose to General Armstrong, the fact of the matter is that he still played along with her request. He said that Falman will suffer the consequences of his actions against the state."

Buccaneer swore under his breath and dragged his metal fingers through his mohawk. Clearly agitated, he paced forward and over to the cement pit, and slapped his smoothing tool down onto it. After going over it a few times, he lifted his eyes and glared at Edward. Realizing that it was a signal for him to join in, Edward hurriedly jogged over and stopped beside him, doing the same with his tool.

The two of them worked in silence for a few moments until a group of soldiers walked past them and out of earshot before Buccaneer finally grumbled, "Did you get the note last night then?"

Edward nodded. "Yeah, I did," he answered, assuming he meant the piece of paper that had been jammed into the bread that was on his dinner tray the prior night. "And I did exactly what General Armstrong asked me to do."

Buccaneer paused his work to glare at Edward out of the corner of his eye. Edward stopped momentarily when he uncovered a spot of blood with his tool as images of the moments leading up to and including the older General's demise clouded his mind. He tightened his grip on the tool in hand and his stomach flip-flopped. He hadn't realized he had been so shaken by his conversation with the Homunculus that the event had been temporarily dismissed in his mind. But now that he saw the unsettling proof of it once again, he felt nauseous.

Seemingly catching on, Buccaneer drove his elbow into Edward's arm, jerking him out of his stupor. "You need to work with me here, kid," he snarled. "Or else Raven won't be the only kill that monster makes."

Edward knew he was right but the suddenness of it, the shock he had felt as it betrayed its comrade, disturbed him deeply. It had so easily taken the life of another, all for it and the one who was pulling the strings' benefit. He knew that Mustang had never much cared for Raven, and Edward himself never had, but seeing something that wore his face tear the older General to shreds so effortlessly was… unnerving. Not to mention the same for how he was being asked to deal with the aftermath, as though it had never happened… Another movement from Buccaneer threatened a second elbow to Edward's side and, not wanting to feel steel rammed into his ribs, he continued, "I constructed the hatch behind a few crates in Bay F, just like General Armstrong wanted. It leads directly into the underground tunnel the Homunculus was digging." Buccaneer nodded and Edward took the opportunity to turn to him and look him in the eye. "She didn't tell me the reason why she wanted it made in the first place, but after what I just witnessed I think I have an idea.

"It's for Falman, isn't it? In the event that things would go south when it came to bringing him with her." He watched as the corners of Buccaneer's lips twitched at the mention of his General and her prowess, and Edward knew that he was right.

The faint smirk on the Captain's face quickly vanished and he turned back to his work. He pushed the tool forward and back a few as when he uttered, "It is. And now with what you've told me about the Homunculus, it would appear that we need to use it." He stopped pushing the brush and focused his gaze on Edward.

Without having to look at him, Edward knew. He sucked in a deep breath and exhaled slowly, and then nodded. That night, he decided right then and there. That night he would free Falman from his confines to ensure that he would live.

* * *

The first thing Winry registered as she slowly began to wake up was the sound of two voices. Wrinkling her brows, she strained to listen, trying to determine their sources. One was clearly a woman's, and the other was that of a young boy – a metallic reverberation accompanying his every word. After taking a few moments to process them, she slowly began to recognize them as Gracia Hughes' and Alphonse's voices.

Oh right… She and Alphonse had decided to stay the night at the Hughes household. Slowly opening her eyes to a rather dark room, she rolled her head to the side and found herself facing the silhouettes of a coffee table and a set of lounge chairs. Her eyes then darted up to survey her surroundings further, and after a few moments of examining the dim room she recognized it as the Hughes' living room. With a small sigh, she slowly eased herself upward and rubbed the knot in her neck. She must have fallen asleep on Gracia's couch after… A knot formed in her stomach as she began to go over the night's evens in her head, and every moment thereafter.

After Lust stopped terrorizing them and had left, Gracia had stayed up with her in order to once again confirm everything they had discussed with the Homunculus, as though seeing what she had done was not enough to verify what she had said. She closed her eyes and her hand slipped down from her neck and back to her side. Gracia had taken the insult particularly hard after they had to explain to her again what they believed had happened to her friends. And it seemed like, with every question she asked, they had fewer and fewer answers. Though one thing they did know was that they had both silently agreed to not tell her about what Lust had done to them the previous day. They had vowed to not involve her at all, but now that she was they would make sure she knew as little as possible to prevent her from endangering herself and Elicia. Because in their minds the less she knew, the less likely she was to draw their undivided attention again.

She was momentarily pulled from her thoughts when she registered a familiar clanking noise and, recognizing it as Alphonse, put on the best smile she could muster when he walked into the room.

"Oh, I didn't realize you were awake, Winry," he said as he moved toward her, a tray of what she assumed was breakfast food in his hands.

"I just woke up," she croaked, her voice still gritty and dry from sleep.

He nodded and eased himself down onto his knees, setting the tray on the coffee table in front of the couch she was half laying on. "I brought you some breakfast," he offered. "Mrs. Hughes made pancakes this morning."

Swinging her legs over the edge of the couch, she pulled herself into a sitting position in front of the tray. But rather than touching what he had offered her, she looked past him and toward where the kitchen was. "How is she doing?"

He looked over his shoulder and toward where she was looking. When he saw that Gracia hadn't appeared, he turned back to her and admitted, "She's still a bit shaken up. She said that she… Didn't sleep well last night."

Of course she hadn't, Winry thought as she kept her focus on the kitchen. Who could possibly sleep after discovering _that_? It had taken her at least a few days to even be able to keep her eyes shut long enough to be considered 'sleep.' But even then, it was hardly restful. She had only been awake for a few minutes, but she already felt like she had stayed awake for more than twenty-four hours.

"Are you okay?"

She lifted her head up, realizing that Alphonse had been speaking to her for longer than she had just heard from him. With a shake of her head, she said, "I'm fine, Al. I'm just… thinking."

"Oh," he answered half-heartedly, turning his head toward the spot her eyes had been focused on. "I see…"

She breathed out through her nose and closed her eyes when he turned back to her. "I'm sorry, Al."

"No," he gasped as he waved his hands back and forth. "It's okay, Winry. I understand."

"No, it isn't okay," she countered softly. "I've been doing nothing but shutting you out, Al. It isn't okay that I've been doing that to you." She opened her eyes to find the specks of light that represented his, watching them flicker momentarily. With a small sigh, she shook her head and continued, "It wasn't fair of me to do that to you, Al. You've been nothing but strong from the moment you found out what had happened. But me," she added with a shrug, "I've done nothing but look at the past and what had happened instead of focusing on the now, and the fact that you're here with me now in one piece." Reaching out, she took one of his gloved hands in hers and held it in her palm, running her thumbs over the dry, cracking fabric. Though they were not human, they had a worm, calloused look to them that had accumulated rips and tears over the four years he had had that body.

She knew that if she did a more thorough search, she would find an assortment of nicks and scratches from the times he and Edward had gotten themselves into trouble. For a moment, she almost began to think about how many times their adventures had ended in close calls for the two of them… Winry shook her head to rid herself of the thought and decided that, like she had said moments ago, she would not live in the past. Instead, she would live in the present and take every moment one step at a time. But only if he did too. "Promise me…"

Alphonse hummed a confused response and she lifted her head to peer into the bright red orbs that had become his eyes. "Promise me," she said again, more clearly. More definite. "Promise me that you'll take care of yourself, Alphonse. Promise that you'll take care of the body you have right now so that you can continue on with your journey to getting your body and Edward's back."

His eyes glowed brighter upon hearing her revelation and he squeaked, "Of… Of course, Winry. I'll continue to do my maintenance and make sure that I'm ready for Brother to come back. And," he added as he rubbed the back of his helmet with his free hand, "I'll be sure to take care of it every other time too."

She felt a small smile creep onto her face. "If you can promise that, then I can promise to let go of the past and look toward the future." His shoulders slackened and for a moment she could have sworn that even his armor smiled back. Winry sighed contently and let go of his hand. As she made a move to get up, she heard someone softly say her name. Turning her head toward the source of the sound, she watched as Mrs. Hughes entered the room and made a beeline toward the couch. Winry shuffled over and made room on the chair as Gracia sank down beside her.

The older woman offered her a small smile. "I hope you slept alright, Winry. The couch isn't the most comfortable place to sleep, I'll admit. But I was afraid that we'd wake you up after you had fallen asleep last night. You need as much rest as you can get."

"I slept alright," Winry affirmed. "But… What about you?"

Gracia moved her shoulders up and down. "Admittedly not as well as I would have liked, but I was able to get some rest after I got Elicia into bed."

But whether or not it was a restful sleep was the question that hung in the air between them as Winry noted the dark circles that had begun to take shape beneath Mrs. Hughes's eyes. Winry had had trouble sleeping from the moment she discovered what had become of the Colonel and Lieutenant, and she knew that it would continue to be as such until a resolution was found. How long that would take, though, she did not know.

But the difference between Gracia and Winry was that Winry had at least experienced alchemy in its many forms throughout her life; all thanks to Edward and Alphonse. So, though she still had difficulties accepting what had happened, she at least was able to understand, even if it seemed to stretch the boundaries of what even the brothers knew of alchemy.

Gracia, on the other hand, had very little experience with alchemy as far as Winry knew. She likely believed that such a thing was a nearly impossible occurrence. And yet a product of myth and legend stood before her just hours before, wearing the face of one of her dearest friends. And then to discover that the monster behind the mask knew at least to some extent what had become of her husband. Winry honestly in awe seeing Gracia standing before her offering her a meal just as she had done many times before. But even so… There was still an unmistakable sadness in her eyes, and she knew without saying that what had happened the night before was still playing on repeat over and over again in the older woman's mind. And she knew from her own experience that unless it was addressed, that fear would continue to accumulate.

Her face softened and Gracia took notice, the small smile on her face disappearing as Winry said, "But are _you_ alright?"

Gracia's lips immediately parted to reply but then she paused, and instead glanced down at her lap and rubbed her hands together nervously. Without hesitating Winry reached forward and placed her hand atop hers. The corner of Gracia's lips twitched, though her eyes still focused downward. "That's a difficult question to answer, Winry," she confessed. "One I knew you would ask me. Admittedly I went through this scenario a few times in my head, trying to discover a way to tell you that I was fine so that you wouldn't worry about us. But," she continued with a soft sigh, "I also knew that I couldn't lie to you because honestly, who could be fine after that?" She lifted her eyes to peer into Winry's, and it took every ounce of Winry's willpower to not gasp. Just the returning thought of the experience seemed to age Gracia by at least ten years. The circles beneath her eyes seemed so much more prominent now; the sadness within them deeper than they had been before. The creases on her face seemed to have darkened and grew, and for a moment she looked like a different person.

But then, the faintest of smiles found its way onto her face once more. "After I thought about it, though, I realized that you and Alphonse had known about this longer than I have. And yet, despite knowing all of that, the two of you still remained strong. It's such a difficult burden to carry, and yet here you are: taking this horrible situation in stride. So I thought long and hard to myself and asked, 'What can I do to be like them?' And the answer that I came up with was to keep my eyes set forward. To take this turn of events in stride. Just like the two of you." Her eyebrows arched and she pulled her hands out from beneath Winry's, lifting them to Winry's face.

Winry blinked, confused, until Gracia took her face in her hands and brushed away the tears that had escaped her eyes and trickled down her cheek. She blinked a few times, trying to rid herself of them, and shook her head. "But I'm not…" Winry paused, however, when she remembered her conversation with Alphonse, and her promise that was all too similar to Gracia's. Instead of completing her thought, she smiled back.

Seemingly satisfied by her response, Gracia pulled away and sat back on her heels. "I'll admit that I'm not alright, especially since I'm still trying to understand what has happened. But as long as I keep my sights on you and Alphonse and follow your lead, I know that we'll be okay. And besides," she added with a small nod toward the little Elicia's bedroom, "I need to maintain a sense of normalcy for Elicia's sake. And in order to do so she's going to need someone who is strong. Last night was the night where I struggled with that. But today? I've decided that today is a new day."

"You say that I'm strong," Winry contended. "But I think that it's you who is strong, Mrs. Hughes." The woman lifted her brows and Winry explained, "You've taken everything we've told you and everything you've seen and learned, and yet you've still decided to move forward and put on a smile. If anything," she said with a shrug, "I should be the one that's admiring you."

"Let's agree to disagree then," she offered. Though Winry would beg to differ, she nodded. A smile touched Gracia's lips. "You're so incredibly brave, Winry. It's something that Maes picked up about you the moment he first met you. He would be proud."

The corners of Winry's lips curved upward and she said, "I'll try to make him proud… And you. Although," she added, stealing a glance toward Alphonse, "I've had Al by my side. He's been nothing but strong this entire time and…" He trailed off, realizing that his soul-fire eyes had seemingly dissipated. She wrinkled her brow and bowed closer to him and waved a hand in front of his face. "Al?" When he did not immediately respond, her heart stalled. "Alphonse…? Al—"

Alphonse gasped and jumped, eyes flickering brightly as he finally responded to Winry's calling. He blinked a few times and tilted his helm. "Sorry Winry. What were you saying?"

The frown that found its way to her face deepened. "Are you alright, Al? You… didn't answer me when I said your name."

"Oh," he squeaked. "I didn't?" Reaching up and rubbing the back of his helmet embarrassedly, he confessed, "I'm sorry Winry, Mrs. Hughes. I think I just kind of… zoned out there for a minute."

"'Zoned out,'" Winry echoed. "Is it something that you've always been able to do?"

"Ah… A little, I guess," he admitted. "Sometimes when I think really hard I just kind of," he lifted his hands, "Get lost in my thoughts."

"Oh," Winry answered with a sigh of relief. "I'm glad that you're okay then. You had me worried for a second there."

"Sorry to worry you," he offered.

Winry shook her head. "It's okay, Al. Really. I just wanted to make sure you were okay."

His shoulders sagged with relief and he nodded. Then, shifting his eyes from Winry to Gracia, he asked, "Is there… anything I missed?"

"No," Gracia answered softly. "We were just discussing a few things. Winry here was very helpful to me, and I was just expressing my gratitude toward her."

His eyes flickered between the two of them, taking note of their expressions. But when he undoubtedly saw that they were both at peace, he too allowed himself to be at ease.

Winry smiled, and felt that, for the first time since they had been thrown into this situation, she finally felt confident. "Are you ready," she asked as she rose to her feet and offered him a hand.

The hesitated, eyes jumping from her hand to her face and back again. But her words and actions were genuine. She could still be afraid, but also brave. And if she was going to protect Edward, Alphonse, Mrs. Hughes, and everyone else, she was going to have to be a little of both.

He seemed to understand. With a nod, he took her hand and she helped him to his feet. "Yeah. I'm ready, Winry…"

* * *

Glancing up at the clock that hung above the register, Jean Havoc found himself pleasantly surprised that, for once, he was right on time with restocking a few of the low-hanging shelves. Though it had taken some getting used to given his condition, he was finally able to find a rhythm that worked in his favor before opening the shop for its morning hours. With a satisfied nod, he balanced a box of paper towels on his knees and slowly edged away from the register and wheeled himself toward the back of the store.

After finding and turning down the correct aisle, he eased his way over to the section he saw that lacked an adequate amount of the paper. Just as he began to place them onto the shelf, he heard the telltale bell that hung above the shopfront ring and he instantly stopped. "Hello," he called loudly as he set the box on the floor and slowly began to backpedal. "Is someone there?"

A muffled sound came as the reply and he tensed. He knew for a fact that he hadn't unlocked the front door and, with Rebecca already gone to Eastern Command and his brother and mother not scheduled to arrive for another half hour, the list of who could possibly need and had access at that hour dwindled. Turning his chair back toward the aisle, he carefully wheeled himself up a few feet and stopped at the aisle's edge to listen again. Being closer to the intruder, he was finally able to hear them and hear something that he… did not expect. What it sounded like was… crying. More confused than on-guard, he pushed himself around the corner.

In retrospect, he decided that he would have been prepared for almost anything. He had even anticipated a knife-wielding intruder and decidedly determined that facing one would have hurt far less than what he witnessed the moment he turned the corner.

Kneeling in the center of the shop, her hands up and over her eyes, was Rebecca. When she heard him roll out and into view, she lowered her hands and looked toward him, tears overflowing from her eyes and staining her cheeks.

"Rebecca," he gasped, rolling himself over to her as quickly as he could.

"I'm sorry," she choked out over and over again as she tried to wipe away the tears that continued to roll down her face. "I'm so sorry, Jean. I should have seen this coming. I should have _known_!"

"Known? Rebecca," he appealed to her, reaching out to help her wipe the tears away, "What do you—"

"They," she sobbed. "They want me to—Go to the funeral. They said that I've been," she hiccupped, "Specifically requested to by G-Grumman himself."

"They want you to…" he slowly echoed back as the gravity of her new assignment slowly sank in. They were going to take her too. There was no doubt about that. The orders were for the funeral and the funeral only as far as he could tell, but he knew that they could easily extend her 'sentence' to force her to stay. All they needed was due cause and she would be their hostage, just like Alphonse and Winry.

"Stop," he ordered softly, lifting a hand to brush her tears away from her eyes. "You didn't do anything wrong. Let's talk this through…"

Rebecca shook her head. "There isn't anything to talk about, Jean. They already bought me a-a ticket. They-they're expecting me tomorrow."

Jean felt the blood drain from his cheeks at her revelation. "So soon…?"

She nodded. "The funeral is set for three days from now. They…" She trailed off, as if unsure she wanted to tell him what they had planned.

"Rebecca." He tilted her chin up enough to better look her in the eyes. She had calmed down slightly; not enough for his comfort though. He needed to know. Needed to know what exactly they had planned for her. "What is it, Becks? What do they want you to do?"

She sniffed and tore her gaze away from him, focusing her eyes on the floor. "I… T… They…."

"Rebecca, please," he begged, his voice cracking slightly on the last syllable. It was difficult seeing her this way. Seeing how broken she was. They had both lost two of the most important people to them, but in some ways he had lucked out being forced away because of his 'useless' status. But she… She was still a pawn in their eyes. A pawn that they still felt they had control over… "Please tell me."

She hiccupped and shook her head again as she tried to calm herself. Jean leaned back in his chair to give her the space she needed, keeping his hand on her shoulder the rest of the while. After a few strangled sobs and a few more tears spent, she finally began to calm down, her gasps quieting to small sniffles as she composed herself. Wiping her tears off of her cheeks, she sniffled once more and raised her head, her eyes meeting his. He offered her a small smile in reassurance, moving his hand from her shoulder to tilt her chin up. "Now," he began again slowly, "What is it?"

Rebecca took a deep, shuddering breath and held it for a few moments before exhaling. "They… want more than that, Jean. They… want me to transfer there."

"'Transfer,'" he echoed, and she nodded in affirmation.

"Th-they want me to be a part of Grumman's security team," she continued. "And… And _she_ would be the one I report to. I…" she whimpered as the sobs she had tried to repress began to wrack her body. "I don't think I can face her again…"

Jean leaned back in his chair as the last ounce of his blood ran cold in his veins. They were taking her. At that moment she was theirs again. _Their_ pawn. One that not even a knight could protect… He stiffened when he felt something brush past him but, when his senses returned and he realized that she had raised up onto her knees to embrace him, instantly relaxed and wound his arms around her, pulling her close as she buried her face into his chest and once again broke down in a fit of sobs.

* * *

"And there you have it," the Homunculus purred as General Grumman looked on in disbelief. "Rebecca Catalina will now be a part of your security team as we enter a new era for Amestris."

When he had finally picked his jaw up off the floor, Eugene could only find himself stare in awe at the creature that took on his granddaughter's form. Everything. Everything down to the most minute of details had been thoroughly planned and laid out for them, working perfectly into their plans as they had intended it to be. No doubt Rebecca Catalina had fallen into it from the beginning, despite their supposed disdain of her involvement up until that point. _Everything_ , it seemed, had been planned as far as he could tell.

Once he finally found his voice, he managed to sputter, "You… You monster."

She lifted a blonde brow and cocked her head. "'Monster,' you say? Is that really what you call someone who has backed you into a corner just because they outwitted you? Because I figured you would be impressed. Like grandfather, like granddaughter, hmm?"

"Y… You," he sputtered as she pretended to straighten the trinkets on his desk. "How dare you insinuate something so preposterous! You and I are _nothing_ alike."

Her hands froze, hovering over a small teacup he so proudly displayed. His eyes flicked down to it as she took hold of it, and he felt his chest tightened. Without a second thought he dove forward and grabbed at it, managing to brush his fingertips over its rim before she pulled it away. As she lifted it to her face to look it over, he slammed his hands on his desk and leapt to his feet. Unimpressed by his outburst, she lazily dragged her attention from the object and focused it on him. Poking a finger through the handle, she hung it on the edge of her nail, allowing it to rock freely back and forth as she lifted a brow. "Really," came her cool response as the smallest hint of a smile played on her lips.

He slammed a hand down hard on the desk. "You are not my granddaughter," he seethed. "And to suggest it is a dishonor to her."

Her lips turned downward into a pout. For a few moments longer she watched the teacup balanced on the edge of her finger, observing how dangerously close it was to slipping off and crashing to the floor below. Then, as though she had realized something, her smile returned. "This teacup is part of a set, is it not?"

His lips curled back. "Don't change the subject, you monster."

Her eyes wandered over to him and she arched a brow. "I'm getting there, old man. Now tell me, this is part of a set, isn't it?"

Eugene pursed his lips together and chose to remain silent, for he knew the second he opened his mouth he would lash out at the Homunculus again. She did not seem to mind nor care, because a few moments later she answered the question herself. "I remember when I would climb up on a chair and pull them down from the mantelpiece, and have a tea party with a few of my most cherished toys. Father was particularly possessive of them, though, since they had belonged to my mother." Holding it up to eyelevel, she tapped a finger from her free hand against its chipped base. "He took and hid the set after I damaged one of them. I'm surprised to see this, honestly," she admitted, tapping it again. "I would have thought you would display one of the undamaged pieces. Or is it because you know of its history and have a fondness for it, knowing that it is one of the few remaining pieces that both your daughter and granddaughter came in contact with, hmm?" Her violet eyes flickered up from it to gauge his reaction.

He had tried to bite his tongue. Tried to push back the utter feeling of disgust that churned in his stomach the entire time the Homunculus was talking. But that had been the final straw. The monster's audacity was inexcusable.

"How… dare you," he snarled through his teeth. "How dare you continue to wear her face and speak as though you are her. How dare you dig through her memories and act as if you were there. You might have Riza's memories, _but you know nothing about her or my daughter_." He lifted his hand and pointed toward the door. "I'm sick of your rhetoric because it is you who is wasting my time. I want you out of here this instant you—" The sound of glass shattering tore him from his diatribe and he stopped, eyes immediately flickering down to the tea cup that now lay shattered on the ground in front of his desk. For a moment he completely forgot what he had been saying, now trying to process what had happened. And when his mind failed to piece together a reasonable explanation, he looked up at the Homunculus to see that the smirk on her face had vanished, replacing itself with a deep scowl.

It reached up and wiped the corner of its lip with the back of its hand and hissed, "You're right. I really should be leaving. There are too many tasks to complete and I've spent more than enough time entertaining you."

Eugene's lips curled back as she began her retreat. "You…," he sputtered, "I'm not through with you yet." He stormed around his desk and she stopped in front of the door. "Why did you do that?! Why would you destroy one of the few things I had left of her?" Her hand went down to the handle and he took a step toward her, but withdrew when he felt a crunch beneath his feet. Lifting his foot, he watched as shards of the ruined cup loosened themselves from the soles of his boots and landed on top of the rest of the broken glass. He jerked his head up, about to admonish the monster again, when he heard the door to his office slam closed, the Homunculus gone.

He had half a mind to go after it, demand why it had done what it did. Demand why it had violated the escape Lieutenants Havoc and Catalina had taken to the East. Why it felt the need to continue to play with their lives as though they were pawns. Why it had compared itself to his granddaughter and had violated her memories.

And why… And why it had…

He hadn't realized that he had sunk to the ground in front of the shattered remains of his daughter's possession; his granddaughter's innocence. But now, as he picked up the pieces and curled his fingers around them, holding them against his heart as tears pricked at the corners of his eyes, all he wanted to know was… Why?

* * *

Lust pressed a hand over her mouth and cleared her throat. She found that the further she got from the old man's office, the more control she gained over the Lieutenant. Though she still wasn't too keen about the fact that she had allowed the latter to gain so much control in the first place.

She quickened her pace.

The Lieutenant was still fighting, though her efforts had not been as strong as they had been previously; something Lust gratefully attributed to her valiant attempts before. She was so weak that she hardly had the energy to speak, reserving every bit of strength to use to push back instead.

Despite being less apparent than a few times previously, the physical manifestations of the Lieutenant's fights were still ever present. Lust lifted her hand and wiped away the remaining blood that had accumulated on her lips. Hawkeye had calmed slightly as she approached the office she had been assigned to, but Lust still believed that it wasn't enough. If her struggles continued to interfere, it would become extremely problematic once Rebecca Catalina arrived. There had to be some way she could contain her…

She pushed open the office door and found herself facing a large plate of metal. Just as surprised as she, Alphonse Elric jumped and whirled around to face her. Lust lifted a brow and stepped around him, taking note of Winry in the process, and walked over to her desk before turning around to face them. "I have to say that I'm impressed," Lust noted as she leaned back against her desk and folded her arms across her chest. "The past two days have been very… hectic for you two. I almost figured you would have wanted to request the day off."

Winry shifted uncomfortably next to Alphonse, and Lust silently challenged to respond. Lust's taunting of the young girl greatly agitated Hawkeye, and if creating another rift would possibly be enough to push the Lieutenant over the edge, then another confrontation might be beneficial. But instead of immediately answering like she had hoped, Winry pursed her lips together and put on an impassive expression.

Lust frowned. How boring…

"We didn't want to," Alphosne chimed in as he raised a finger. "Like we said before, we're not afraid to continue playing by the rules if it means that our friends and family are safe."

Lust lifted a brow. No doubt the boy was including Gracia Hughes in the mix of their so-called 'family and friends.' In all honestly, she wouldn't have given the woman the time of day if she hadn't run into her by chance. But now, it seemed, she had another pawn she could manipulate if she so desired. Though, she decided as she watched the two of them, it would be one she would keep in her back pocket for another time…

She sighed. The Lieutenant, though still on edge because of the children's presence, had calmed considerably, and by then it seemed unlikely she would get a rise out of her. Her eyes flickered from Alphonse to Winry, and then back to Alphonse again. "I see," she answered as she looked down at a set of papers that she had placed on her desk earlier. After finding the name of one of one of the soldiers that had checked into the ward, she continued, "There's a patient in Ward B that checked in early this morning complaining about the connection in his automail shoulder. Your task for today is to diagnose and treat his condition so that he can return to his duties."

A loud _'bang'_ drew her attention from the papers and she lifted her head to find Alphonse Elric sprawled out across the floor. She stood from her chair as Winry turned her eyes away from Lust, staring down at Alphonse in horror.

Lust would admit that even her heart had leapt worriedly, though she most attributed it to the Lieutenant's shock, as she herself recovered from her initial shock before Winry did. She watched as the former fell to her knees beside him and placed her hands on his chest plate. "Al…? Hey, Alphonse?!"

The suit of armor remained silent, lying eerily still in the center of the office floor. The Lieutenant's mind immediately went into a frenzy, trying to find reason for what had happened since their eyes had not witnessed it. But the thought that kept jumping to the forefront of their mind had been one thing: his blood seal. The alchemic symbol that bound his soul to their world. Without it, he would vanish from their plane of existence and return to his body beyond the Gate.

Nothing that they had seen could have triggered such a response, however, as he, Winry, and they had been the only ones in the room, meaning that something must have acutely happened or, more likely, something pertaining to the incident that had occurred a few days prior had suddenly manifested itself. And if that were the case, she realized as the corners of her lips curved upward, then maybe she could do something with that. After all, what had just happened was unavoidable, it seemed. There was no use crying over it like a certain someone had begun to do…

"Alphonse," Winry bawled. "Alphonse, _please answer me_!"

The Lieutenant, feeling Lust's intentions, lurched forward but Lust brushed her away. "How… curious," she mused, stepping around her desk and toward the pair situated in the center of the room. "Has this happened to poor Alphonse before?"

Winry ignored her question and rocked the hollow armor shell that had housed the boy, begging and pleading for him to respond to her cries. But just as Lust had surmised, the child did not reappear.

Lust paid no mind to being ignored. The desperation that seeped from the Lieutenant's soul was enough to tell her that what she had fabricated was enough to get the reaction she needed. And though she knew she was falling into it, the Lieutenant still did not relent, forcing herself against the wall Lust had constructed between them. "Could something have happened to his blood seal? Maybe," she elaborated as she raised her hand and extended her claws, "Something traumatic."

Winry immediately stopped her pleading and tore her eyes away from her fallen childhood friend, her eyes instantly zeroing in on Lust's hand.

"Such a shame it had to come to this," she continued with feigned sympathy as she took a step forward. "But I suppose it couldn't be helped. Damage to an alchemic relic that precious is detrimental, isn't it?"

"S-stay back," Winry snapped, and Lust paused. "Don't… Don't come any closer. Not until he wakes up!"

"Do you think that he will, though," Lust challenged. "I mean, if his blood seal is involved, who's to say that permanent damage hadn't been done after our little… confrontation."

"W… what," Winry whimpered as her eyes grew wide. "What do you mean?"

"Well," Lust began with a shrug, "Who's to say that his body wasn't put back together completely. I mean, our Father did the best he could to repair his armor shell. But it's entirely possible that he missed something. All it would take," she added with a flick of her hand, "Was a little microfracture to cut right through it, right?"

"But… But I would have seen something," Winry tried to rationalize. "I would have seen something like that."

"Would you have," Lust challenged. "Because sometimes things that small go unnoticed by even the most observant of people."

"No… I…" Winry jerked around and ripped Alphonse's helmet off, tossing it away from his body as she peered into his armor and probed around to find his seal.

The Lieutenant immediately retaliated against Lust's firm hold on her, clawing desperately as she tried to make her way to the surface. She sensed Lust's intentions and knew what was to come, and yet she still chose to defend the young girl and her innocence, rather than how she would be remembered by her.

Lust was too charged to back down. Not with what was at stake. She shoved the Lieutenant back, ignored the blood that began to pool in her throat with one and only one focus in mind. "It's such a shame, isn't it," she started, momentarily seizing Winry's attention again. "That this ended up happening. All because the Lieutenant couldn't shut her mouth."

"What… What do you mean," Winry sniffed.

Lust pursed her lips together and offered the young girl a sorrowful smile. "Who else would have told me about his weakness and yours? There isn't anyone else here who knows about Alphonse's blood seal. Once I found out, I knew that it was the perfect weakness to exploit."

"You're… You're lying," Winry argued back. "Ed and Al said that she would never tell you any of that. They said she was protecting us. That—"

"Is that what they told you," Lust quipped as she cocked her head. "Because answer for me this question: Was she there beneath Central Command when I drew blood from your neck?"

Winry immediately opened her mouth to form a rebuttal but then she seemed to reconsider and instead refrained from answering, shutting her mouth.

"What about in the moments before I tore Alphonse to shreds, possibly damaging his blood seal beyond repair?"

Again Winry could not answer and Lust had to refrain from allowing the smile she had suppressed make its way to her face. Even the Lieutenant's struggle added fuel to the fire; her futile attempt at gaining control backfiring as she was constantly rejected, both mentally and physically.

"And what about now," Lust implored. "While you weep over what remains of Alphonse Elric?"

This time Winry looked down at Alphonse, her hands curling into fists on his breastplate. Her eyes were hidden beneath the fringe that had fallen over her face, but Lust did not need to see them to know that she was second guessing everything she had once believed. And now, she decided as Hawkeye pushed against her with everything her soul could muster, it was time to go for the kill.

Lust cleared her throat and explained, "You were so indoctrinated by the Elric brothers' hopes that you were led astray by them. The Lieutenant is far too ashamed to admit to what she has done, and far too involved in self-preservation to aid you." Winry's lower lip trembled and she looked down at Alphonse, brushing shaking fingers along the edge where his two chest plates met. Her response was even better than Lust could have hoped for. The look in her eyes, the complete and utter anguish they reflected. It was absolutely delicious.

"You've thought it before, haven't you?"

Winry gasped and looked up from the armor.

The corners of Lust's lips curled upward. "I can see it in your eyes, Winry. You've known it in your heart all this time. How unfortunate that you didn't listen to yourself before all of this happened. Because maybe if you had, Alphonse would not be in this state…" Her heart constricted and a gasp escaped her lips. In one last attempt, the Lieutenant pushed with all of her remaining strength and—

* * *

" _Wait_!" Riza froze mid-step, shocked that the word had come from her own two lips. She lifted her hand to her face, tasting the swirls of blood on her tongue. Feeling it begin to seep from the corners of her eyes as her body attempted to reject her possession.

Winry's eyes widened. "Get away," she cried as she covered Alphonse's stilled body with her hands. "Stay back!"

Riza suspended her advance, body trembling as she tried to maintain control. She squeezed her hands shut and dug her nails into her palms, feeling the spears at her fingertips penetrating down to the muscles and ligaments of her hands. But still she held firm, gripping her consciousness like as firmly as she could. Even then she only knew she had a few moments before the Homunculus overpowered her and dragged her back down into the darkest recesses of her mind. But if she could let Winry know that she was there, that she was still fighting for them, she could tell her that—

"She was right! You…" Winry gasped as her tears continued to spill over and down her cheeks. "You didn't do anything protect us. To protect _him_!"

The blood was pooling in the back of her throat, behind her eyes. It was suffocating. It was exhausting.

But she had to endure it. Fight it. For them… For Winry… For Alphonse…-

Alphonse. The one that, despite everything that had happened, had not given up hope. The one who clung to the notion that she was still there and fighting for them. And at that moment he needed her. She needed to… Help him.

Taking an unsteady step forward and reaching toward them, fighting tooth and nail against the Homunculus's grip, she was finally able to choke out, "Win-ry—"

"No," Winry sobbed. "Don't come any closer, Miss Riza." Riza's stopped as Winry's tear-filled eyes met hers, and her heart stalled. She could see it in Winry's expression. Could see in her eyes that she knew she was speaking directly to Riza. Winry blinked, freeing the first tears that had newly formed in the corners of her eyes, and immediately after the rest followed. "It's… It's _your_ fault this happened. You're the one who did this you… You… You _monster_!"

* * *

And there it was.

Never had she thought that the Lieutenant held the girl with such high regard. But the thought that Winry Rockbell would have such an impact on her had escaped her notice when probing the Lieutenant's memories.

Had Lust known that was all it took to break through the Lieutenant's near impenetrable wall she had constructed around herself, then she would have antagonized the young girl sooner.

"You hear that, Lieutenant," Lust mused. "She believes you to be as potent as we are. Honestly, I wish I could say that I'm surprised, but I'm really not." She watched the Lieutenant's soul's manifestation amongst the tempest of souls as she continued to gape, still unable to process what had happened. "She essentially believes you to be like one of us which isn't too far a stretch," she added, gazing down at the spears she had used to penetrate the Lieutenant's soul. "After all, you're practically a part of me now."

The Lieutenant opened her mouth to respond, but promptly shut it when a trickle of blood escaped her lip and rolled down her chin. Instead, she reached up and clumsily gripped the spears that had been run through her chest and held loosely onto them in an effort to support herself.

The corners of Lust's lips curved downward. "Even after all this time you _still_ have the audacity to rebel? Are you forgetting what she just said to you? To her –to everyone you ever knew- you are nothing but a monster like the rest of us-"

"That… That isn't true," the Lieutenant replied laboriously. "I am… nothing like…" She slowly tapered off, dipping forward as the effects of Lust's spears slowly began to overcome her. "… You…"

Lust sneered. "You would like to think that, wouldn't you? Then please, by all means, explain to Winry why you wouldn't come to their aid before? Or would you rather wallow in the self-pity that has begun to cloud your mind?"

"I… I'm…" the Lieutenant answered breathlessly.

"Our hearts are connected, Lieutenant. I'm surprised you haven't realized that yet… Especially since you dealt me quite a bit of damage during our last tussle. But now that I've found a way into _your_ heart," Lust continued with a flick of her wrist, twisting the spears that penetrated the Lieutenant's chest. Hawkeye gasped and her muscles tensed, the rest of her weight shifting forward as she came to a rest on Lust's body. Lifting a hand, she pressed the Lieutenant's head against her shoulder and soothed, "I know every emotion, every feeling that is tumultuously raging inside of you at this moment, Lieutenant. To not know that would be rather inattentive of me, wouldn't it?" She paused for a moment, waiting and almost hoping the Lieutenant would respond in some manner, to perhaps show her that there was indeed some fight left within her.

But the young girl's words had cut her deep, and the Lieutenant remained eerily still, every ounce of her strength gone from her previous struggles. It was almost surprising to her just how hollow the Lieutenant felt – both in mind and soul.

"I can feel it in you; that _uncertainty_ you've been harboring in your heart. It's grown, Lieutenant, with every encounter you've had with those you once knew. I can hear it every time you try to reach out to them: the fear that you're becoming more like me. That you aren't pushing hard enough. Not because you aren't capable, but because you have grown to accept me as a part of yourself. You've begun to accept that it is truth. The little girl, Winry, has seen for herself that you are no longer capable of discerning what is you and what is me. And now that she has proclaimed that you are no different than I." Her eyes flickered over to the manifestation of the Lieutenant's soul as she felt the final piece of her remaining will shrivel up.

"It seems we've reached a rather climatic conclusion to this chapter, haven't we, Lieutenant," Lust hummed in Riza's ear, pressing the heel of her hand against the latter's sternum to steady her. "But don't worry. This isn't the end. Not yet. I still have many uses for you."

A smile found its way to her lips when her host's soul willingly relented, an utterance of a quiet, "Help me," finding its way past her lips before she fell into a stuporous state.

* * *

Lust's eyes flickered down to the pair on the ground in front of her, resurveying the scene that had unfolded in the moments she had withdrawn into herself. Her view swept from Alphonse to Winry, who had pressed her palms to the former's armor and bent forward, resting her forehead against her hands as her body shook.

With a composed huff, Lust stepped over the suit of armor and grabbed the handle of the office's door. She twisted it and, when she heard the mechanism pop, pushed the door open, stopping just before she stepped out. Throwing once last glance over her shoulder, she nodded toward the suit of armor and said, "I'll see to it that Zampano and Jerso find you. I wouldn't want you to try and remove _that_ by yourself." Winry paid no heed to her words, remaining where she was over the armor that had formally been Alphonse Elric. Realizing that she was, perhaps, a little too broken to answer, Lust scoffed and muttered a mild, "Pathetic," before walked out of the room and closing the door behind her.

Leaning back against the door, she squeezed her eyes shut and grabbed a handful of her uniform in her hand, twisting it as her heart repeatedly slammed against her ribcage. Unable to maintain her façade, she slid down the door and sunk to the floor, resting her forehead against her knees.

She knew it would soon pass. But had she realized sooner that the resorption of the Lieutenant's soul would prove so weakening, she would have dealt the final blow at a more convenient time.

* * *

That time the feeling had been the same.

An existence on a plane of continuity that was not of that world or the next. An existence he had believed was the result of drawing himself back into his mind.

But this time… there was no darkness.

There had been a door. A door he had grown familiar with whenever he replayed those memories while his brother slept. A door that held the secrets of alchemy and transmutation and answers to everything.

But in front of that door had been another.

In front of that door had been—

Alphonse could hear a muted voice, panicked and scared. A familiar voice.

He reached toward it. Away from the expanse of white.

A jolt traveled through his soul and he gasped, suddenly finding himself staring up at three familiar faces.

They appeared just as bewildered as he. Terrified, even. Two sets belonging to Jerso and Zampano both widened and the one set that were Winry's, tearful. But the impending news of where he had been, what he had seen, demanded that Alphonse speak first as Winry's bottom lip began to tremble.

"W… Winry," he whimpered. "I think… I think I just saw my body."

* * *

The sound of footsteps echoing against the pavement pulled Vato Falman from his uncomfortable slumber, and he sat up on the bench he had used as a makeshift bed, turning his focus toward the shadow that had fallen across the path that led in front of the cell that had housed him. His mind began to race and his heart trembled in his chest. Somehow he knew that it wasn't General Armstrong that was returning for him. It had been nearly two days since he had been escorted there and, while he had not received any information since then, he somehow knew that her plan had failed. He steeled himself, ready to face the monster that had taken his superior officer's face. Ready to accept whatever punishment it had planned for him, knowing full well that his life would be among those threatened.

What he hadn't expected, though, was a familiar golden-haired alchemist to appear around the corner. He blinked once, twice, believing for a moment that his mind was playing tricks on him. But when his comrade returned his dazed expression with a solemn smile, he rose to his feet and hurried to the front of the cell, wrapping his hands around the bars.

"I'm sorry I didn't come sooner," Edward apologized. "But I had to wait until the coast was clear."

"I understand but… What is happening," he asked.

Edward's eyebrows raised. "You mean no one's told you?" Vato shook his head. Even when the guards had come around, they had been unusually quiet. Though, he had noted that he hadn't remembered seeing them before. Although he had spent only a short amount of time at Briggs, he was familiar with a number of faces, even though he did not know their names.

"General Armstrong has been removed from her position and has been replaced by General Hakuro. And," he added quietly, "'Mustang' killed General Raven."

"What," Falman asked with disbelief, feeling the blood drain from his cheeks.

Edward sighed and glared down at his boots. "Yeah," he confirmed. "'Mustang' killed Raven to prove a point. He said something about him no longer being needed for their plan. So," he continued, looking up at Falman again, "After he said what he did earlier, I have no doubt that his 'punishment' for you will end up being the same. So right now your only option is to escape and leave. You got the coordinates for their location, right?" When Falman nodded numbly, he added, "Then you should be able to figure out how to get to them after escaping through the tunnel."

Falman's brows arched and he looked at Edward, aghast. "You're… suggesting I escape?"

"Yes," Edward confirmed before clapping his hands together and placing them on the lock that held the cell closed. When the lock snapped and clattered to the ground, he pulled the door open and made room for Falman to step out. "If you leave tonight you'll be far enough ahead that they won't be able to catch up to you."

"But the Homunculus…"

Edward shook his head. "From the looks of it, it was burrowing toward the southeast. From my understanding Teacher and the others are in the opposite direction so you shouldn't run into it. But even if you did, it didn't seem like it was too eager to pick a fight. In all honesty you could probably sneak past it and it wouldn't even notice."

"But Edward, I can't just go. What about—"

"I'm not going to transmute the lock back together so you might as well leave," Edward said as he cut him off.

"Edward, but—"

He pushed the door open wider and turned his back on the older officer, and slowly began to walk away from the cell. "I won't argue it," he said over his shoulder. "The _only_ option is for you to go. If the Homunculus that has taken the Colonel's body makes good on his word, you could die."

"But what about you?"

The boy stopped, and for a moment Vato thought he had finally appealed to him. But after a few moments Edward shook his head. "Nothing will happen to me. They need me as their sacrifice or whatever, so until then they can't touch me." By then he had gotten a fair distance away, and Vato was forced to follow after him. After rounding a corner after him, Edward glanced over his shoulder to make sure it was him following and, when he confirmed it was, quickened his pace.

Changing his slow canter into a jog, Vato decreased the distance between them until he was practically on Edward's heels. Before he could appeal to the young man again, the latter whipped around another corner, catching Falman off-guard. He skidded ungracefully around the corner in pursuit and picked up his pace again, falling in behind Edward as he leapt down a set of steps that led directly into the boiler room.

Vato hesitated, eyes scanning across the massive room. There was no sign of the Homunculus or General Hakuro, but… His brows creased together as he fell into thought. But… Captain Buccaneer and Major Miles were also missing, meaning that Edward was acting on his own…

A loud creak pulled Vato from his thoughts and he looked in the direction it had come from, seeing that Edward had disappeared behind a set of crates. Taking a precautionary couple of moments to survey the area and make sure that no one was watching, he ducked behind the boxes and discovered that the boy had opened what appeared to be a trap door. Seated beside him was a small bag of rations and a lantern that had been lit.

Edward nodded toward it and pointed away from them and into the hole, "If you head southwest, you should pass the area teacher and the others are hiding, right?"

Vato slowly dipped his head, recalling to himself the coordinates they had given him. He had admittedly measured the distance and had broken it down into kilometers, meters, even steps from the fort in the event that they would have to flee. But never had he imagined that he would be the only one told to go.

"You'd better hurry," Edward continued, breaking through Falman's concentrated thought. "The sooner you go, the further away you'll be when they figure out you're gone."

Vato knelt down and placed a foot on the top rung of the ladder that descended into the darkness, but paused when Edward thrust the bag and lantern into his hands. He wasn't able to argue back as Edward shook his head. "I told you that they won't do anything to me. They need me alive for something. But you," he explained as he lifted the strap of the bag and helped Vato secure it on his back, "Aren't as necessary to their plan. At least, not from what I can tell. The Homunculus told me that you would face punishment for treason even though I explained that I was the one who gave General Armstrong the information. After I saw what it did to someone it had once considered its ally, I can't imagine what it would do to you."

Vato knew that Edward was right, but the very thought that the child had stuck his neck out, knowing full well that one small misstep could possibly cost him the lives of his friends and family was deeply unsettling. That and the fact that he would be left to defend himself against the Homunculus, whose actions up until that point had been unpredictable. Even its grasp on alchemy and the Colonel's flames were still a mystery to them. There was no telling what it was completely capable of… "Edward," he contended with the youth again, "I don't feel comfortable leaving you here by yourself. If you let me stay then maybe I can—"

Edward shook his head. "You don't need to worry about me. I have Buccaneer and Miles here. And besides," he offered with a faint smile, "You need to tell teacher and the others in person what's going on here so that maybe—" He cut off when two voices could be heard approaching them. Rising to his feet, he snuck over to the crates that had hidden them and crouched beside them, peeking around the corner. Vato held his breath and strained to listen, trying to determine if he recognized them or not. But after a few moments, the voices grew duller as their owners drifted away from them.

As Vato sighed with relief, Edward hurried back and crouched down in front of him with a new sense of urgency. He gripped the tunnel's covering and lifted it a few inches off of the ground before turning to look over his shoulder again. Once he had confirmed they were still alone, he said, "You need to go now. We're like sitting ducks here." He turned the cover over and hovered it above Vato's head, forcing him to take a few steps down the rungs of the ladder. "Be sure to tell Teacher everything you know."

"Edward."

He lowered the door until it almost completely covered the hole Vato had descended into. "I'll try to contact them when I can to make sure you made it there alright."

"Edward—"

"And," Edward concluded as he offered Vato a faint smile, "Be sure to tell Teacher that I'm alright… Okay?"

Vato had opened his mouth to argue with Edward again but stopped. In that moment he could see the uncertainty and fear in Edward's eyes and he knew that whatever he said would fall on deaf ears. His stubbornness was something Vato had always been well-aware of, most of the time seeing it first-hand whenever he and the Colonel would disagree about something. But this newfound determination was something he had never seen in the boy: a resolve that was wracked with desperation. This child that stood before him, one that had grown up too soon, had taken Vato's life into his own hands and burdened himself with his safety. Both he and General Armstrong valued his life and gave him the chance to live and continue fighting alongside them. And with that in mind, how could he deny them their wishes?

He hated that it involved leaving Edward behind, especially with that monster. But he trusted him and now he asked for that same level of trust to be returned…

Vato gripped the lantern's handle tighter in his hand and made the final leg of his descent into the tunnel until his feet touched the ground below. He looked up at Edward and lifted his hand in salute. "I will, Fullmetal."

Edward raised his hand and gave a hasty salute in return. "I'll see you on the other side then," he answered as he replaced the cover completely and leaving Vato alone.

His eyes remained glued to the dark outline of the trap door that led to his egress until they had adjusted to the dim light of his lantern. With those parting words in mind, he lowered his salute, arm falling at his side, and he quietly answered, "I'll see you on the other side… Edward."

* * *

He waited for a few minutes after Edward had left, all the while fighting against the Colonel's relentless struggle for power. But when the youth had finally stopped watching the spot that led down into what Wrath assumed was the tunnel Sloth had dug and left, he finally allowed the Colonel's fight to feel somewhat fruitful for the latter, once again feeling tasting the familiar iron flavor of the blood that resulted from his struggle. Though he would not allow him to push through enough for complete control.

At last deciding that the boy would not likely return, he stepped out from behind the pillar he had sought shelter behind and crouched behind the crates it had successfully been hidden behind. Digging his hand into his pocket, he withdrew a piece of alchemic chalk and, hand shaking as the Colonel continued to fight, touched it to the ground and slowly began to draw a circle.

" _I won't let you do this,"_ the Colonel snarled, pushing against Wrath's essence.

The latter smiled, amused by the Colonel's attempt. Though he began to taste the rich iron flavor of the blood the Colonel's most recent struggles had elicited, it wasn't nearly as poignant as before. Mustang had expelled an incredible amount of energy earlier when he had confronted Fullmetal.

He ignored the Colonel and instead used his fighting to his advantage, taking hold of his recollections with relative ease.

He had to delve deep into the Colonel's memories, back to when he had been Master Hawkeye's apprentice, in order to find the right construct to use. It took him much longer to draw it out as well, having to hold onto that memory while fighting against the Colonel's attempts to thwart him. But finally, _finally_ , he was able to draw out the complete circle. Before he would allow his host to prevent him from advancing, he gripped the alchemic power that surged through him and called upon his Gate to do its bidding. Slapping a hand on top of it, he activated the circle and watched it began to glow. A few moments later blue sparks sprung from the cement surrounding it and he watched, amazed, as tendrils of concrete rose up and began to mesh around the latch. Despite the valiant Colonel's effort at breaking his concentration, he kept his hand pressed to the ground, waiting until the cement had completely enveloped the trap door.

He sat back on his heels and looked over his work, satisfied by his first attempt at performing alchemy. During his search through the Colonel's memories, he had discovered that the man rarely used anything outside of his flame alchemy aside from when he was younger, and Wrath couldn't imagine why. It was incredibly effective.

Not wanting to dwell longer than necessary, Wrath got to his feet and gave his handiwork one final confirmatory glance before he decided he was satisfied. Turning on his heels, he stepped out from behind the crates and made his way down the nearest corridor with the nearest call center in his mind. Realizing what he was planning, Mustang lunged and writhed, trying fruitlessly to prevent Wrath from fulfilling his duty. But the Homunculus was already driven to complete it, wanting to make sure that every loose end was tied off… permanently.

When he stepped into the otherwise empty room, Wrath made a beeline for the phone furthest from the main door. He picked up the receiver and took a moment to retrieve the number from Mustang's memory upon realizing that he would have to make a call to a personal line that late at night. Once he had recalled it, he tapped the numbers in and lifted the device to his ear.

The phone rang twice before he heard a sharp ' _click_ ,' and an agitated, " _Hello_?"

"It's me," he muttered into the line. "Do you have a moment?"

" _I do_ ," Lust answered. " _What news do you have_?"

"The news of Bradley's death has traveled north. Hakuro's presence has signaled to me that the next step is about to begin. Is that correct?" She hummed in confirmation and he continued, "If that's so, I need you to do something as soon as possible for me."

" _And what would that be_ ," she inquired.

He lifted his head and stole another glance of the surrounding room. When he had determined that there would be no one there to hear, he said, "If we're looking to begin the next phase in a matter of hours, then I'm going to need you to pay a visit to the Bradley residence ASAP. I have a feeling that the task will be next to impossible the moment word of the North's predicament travels south."

" _I was just about to go over and give my condolences_ ," she replied.

"Good." Leaning back against the shelf that jutted out from the wall beneath the phone, Wrath scanned the area around him, once again trying to confirm that it was clear of any other individuals. When he determined it was, he pressed the receiver to his ear again and muttered, "I want you to tell Pride that there's vermin scurrying around in the tunnels beneath Briggs. I'll need him to dispose of it as soon as possible."

"' _Vermin_ ,'" she questioned, her tone almost eerily like the Lieutenant's. So much so, in fact, that Mustang made the effort to push back against Wrath's grip.

Pushing him away, Wrath explained, "Vato Falman has decided to seek shelter in the tunnels beneath Fort Briggs, likely seeking escape."

She was quiet for a few moments as she slowly digested the information he had given her. At that moment the Colonel decided to lunge and, catching Wrath off-guard, managed to gasp, " _Lieutenant_!" Immediately retaliating against Mustang's mutiny, Wrath took hold of his soul and pushed him back, but the Colonel was relentless as he struggled to break through and to the surface. "Don't let her—"

With a snarl of disgust, Wrath released his grip on the receiver and dug his nails into the skin on his face. Dragging them down, deeper and deeper until he drew blood, he gritted his teeth and continued to push back against the Colonel's soul.

" _I understand_ ," the voice on the other end of the line stated hurriedly. The Colonel paused, momentarily stopping his attempt at gaining control in order to discern who it was that had replied. " _I'll be sure to inform Pride of your predicament and ensure that the proper response is implemented_."

In all of his time spent housed in the Colonel's body, Wrath could not recount a more agonizing ricochet of pain. He clutched his chest and bowed forward in an effort to suppress the excruciating response. He tasted blood on his lips. On his tongue. Seeping from the commissures of his lips and the tear ducts of his eyes as the Colonel continued to struggle, fighting for an answer from the Lieutenant, and fighting for his doomed former subordinate.

"Go-od," he gasped into the receiver. "S-see to it that… it is _done_." Before she could answer, he slammed the receiver down on its cradle and then sank to the floor, wrapping his arms around his body as his insides violently twisted and expanded, then contracted. Pressing his head to the ground, he violently shoved Mustang back into the darkest recesses of his mind as his echoed screams filled his ears, and held him there until his will subsided.

* * *

Armed with only a lantern and the knowledge Edward had given him, Vato Falman knew that he was running on time borrowed. Every second that passed since Edward closed the trapdoor behind him meant that it would be one second closer to the moment when the Homunculus would discover his absence and possibly retaliate.

Vato quickened his pace, keeping his eyes glued to the darkness ahead of him as he listened for and counted every _thud_ his boots made on the bedrock beneath his feet. His primary focus was to keep count of the number of steps he took until he reached the near fifty-thousand he postulated it would take to reach the coordinates relayed to him by the team situated south of the fort. Once there he would find sanctuary, and would hopefully be a better asset to their team once there—

Something out of the corner of his eye moved and he froze, whipping around to confront whatever was there. But instead of finding the massive Homunculus he believed it had been, he was greeted by absolute darkness. His brows knitted together and he took a step toward it, raising his lantern to try and shed some light on it. After advancing a few paces, however, he realized that it was no ordinary darkness. He reached up, rubbed his eyes, to try and pinpoint a singular spot so he could focus on it. But it was so black, so devoid of any light, that it took him a few moments to discern what it was. And no sooner had he figured out what it was, inky black tendrils shot out from the darkness. He barely had enough time to react, falling far enough backward that they only managed to tear through the front of his uniform.

The moment he felt his back hit the ground, he rolled onto his hands and knees and propelled himself upward, grabbing the lantern that had fallen beside him. Hearing what sounded like a burst of wind explode behind him only prompted him to run faster, knowing that the shadowy beast they had first encountered in Central was breathing down his neck. But as soon as he had hit his stride, his foot found a divot and his balance was disrupted. He plummeted toward the ground, letting go of the lantern and his rations in a decided effort to catch himself.

The darkness overtook him before he hit the ground.

* * *

 _Edward was sure another hour had already passed, but when he turned his eyes toward the sky he saw that the sun had not moved from its position directly above head. With an embittered moan, he kicked off the sand that had accumulated on his boots and trudged another few steps forward, shoving his hands into his coat pockets. For hours he had been wandering the Xerxian ruins, and for hours he had forced himself to endure the grueling heat to continue dredging through the mounds of sand and piles of stones in an effort to find an area of the remains he hadn't explored yet._

 _For some odd reason, those new areas would never come to light, and he instead found himself walking in circles. The process was the same every time. He would pick a direction he believed he had not yet traveled and would take the clearest path he could. But just when he thought he was getting somewhere, the earth beneath him would shake and he would find himself standing before the severed alchemic circle again. He had admittedly looked it over again, but still found no meaning in what it contained. Just the same double-headed dragon and five suns he had seen previously…_

 _The urgency of whatever task he had clung to him like his sweat-drenched brow._

 _But at that moment, he couldn't even remember what it was he was searching for. Whatever it was, though, it was clearly important enough that he had decided to muddle through the ruins for hours on end. Reaching up, he wiped his forehead with the sleeve of his jacket. But just as he pulled it away, he stopped. Lowering it to chest level, he looked down and saw that it wasn't wet. His frown deepened._

 _Something wasn't right._

 _Turning his attention to his right hand, he pulled off his glove and stared down at the metal appendage. Despite it being excruciatingly hot, the metal support adhered to his body wasn't even lukewarm. And… now that he thought about it, he didn't even feel warm…-_

 _The ground beneath him shuddered again and he squeezed his eyes shut, bracing himself again. The tremors would only last for a few moments, he knew, but as soon as he opened his eyes he would be back in front of that damned transmutation circle again._

 _When they died down, he opened his eyes, confirming his location. But before he could groan in protest, something different about the scene caught his eye. His eyes snapped back over to it, and his heart stalled. Seated on the ground with her back turned to him was a familiar form, clad in black and blue._

 _Edward took a step toward her and lifted his arm on impulse, stopping his advance only when the glint of steel caught his eye. He tore his eyes away from the 'Lieutenant' and momentarily turned them toward his arm. He… didn't remember alchemizing it to form a blade…_

 _Letting his arm fall to his side, he took a few cautious steps toward her, keeping his eyes glued to her back. His mind was reeling, demanding answers for why she would be there of all people. Where were Winry and Alphonse? What business did the Homunculi have with Xerxes? Were they seeking what he was as well?_

 _With every inch he crept toward her, the tremors beneath his feet grew more and more frequent. But despite that she remained motionless, hunched over with her arms wrapped tightly around her torso. He swallowed nervously, lifting his arm again as when he was within a few feet of her. Finding his voice, he uttered, "What are you doing here?"_

 _She tensed and he readied himself for her attack. But when she turned around, no such attack occurred. Instead, tearful violet eyes found his, and she whimpered, "Edward… Help me…"_

" _L… Lieutenant—" As he reached toward her, the ground began to violently shake and it threw him off-balance. Trying to find his bearings, he brought his foot down on what he believed was solid ground, only to find that it had disappeared._

 _And he fell._

* * *

Edward bolted out of the darkness, clawing at his chest to try and calm his pounding heart. He sucked in a deep breath, exhaled. Inhaled.

Until the darkness that had surrounded him began to recede and he found himself back in his dorm at Fort Briggs. With a heavy sigh, he squeezed his eyes shut and fell back onto his pillow, pressing his palms over his eyes as he begged his racing heart to slow.

It was just a dream, he told himself. Just a _damn_ dream. The ruins of Xerxes provided absolutely nothing for him, and he had no reason to even be thinking about them. And the Lieutenant… She was, of course, in trouble, but… He slowly dragged his hands down his face before allowing them to slacken and fall onto either side of him. Edward opened his eyes, finding himself staring up at the gray ceiling above as he tried to slowly piece together its meaning, just as he always would after waking up in such a state.

Why would Lieutenant Hawkeye be there? As herself no less; or rather, mostly as herself. Edward narrowed his eyes, eyes flickering across the ceiling as he tried to recall why his thoughts had immediately turned to doubting what he had seen in his dream.

It had been like before when he first confronted 'Mustang' and 'Hawkeye' in the Colonel's office. The voice and desperation in her eyes had clearly been the Lieutenant's, but the color matched that of Lust's. He reached up and raked his fingers through his unkempt hair, trying to understand why he had even dreamt it in the first place. Why the earth continued to shake every time he ventured too far. Why he kept coming back to the ruins of that transmutation circle. And why the Lieutenant had appeared the way she did…

He groaned and fell back onto his mattress. His dreams had been nothing but night terrors until that point, but now that a different vision had popped into his head, he found that he couldn't even begin to make heads or tails of it. Something in his head was telling him that it was important, but he hadn't the faintest idea what it could be. Edward closed his eyes, resigning himself to another night of lost sleep where he would analyze what he had envisioned. But before he could get comfortable again, a soft wail originating outside his dorm room caught his attention.

He wrinkled his brow and strained to listen, only for it to grow louder. Determining that it must not have been an effect of the dream he had had, he sat up again and swung his legs over the side of the bed, planting them on the cold cement floor. Just as he had begun to make his way toward the light switch, the ground beneath him shook and he lost his footing. Stumbling forward, he slapped a hand against the wall and steadied himself as the rumble died. Before he moved another briefly followed and subsided, and he knew that it wasn't a natural occurrence.

The wail of another siren, this time much closer, confirmed it for him. _Something_ was happening in the fort below, and from what he had gathered in those few moments he was awake, it was something devastating.

* * *

Edward had been right in believing that something major was happening outside of the fort, but what it was, he did not immediately know. Whenever he stopped to grab the attention of one of the frantic Briggs soldiers that rushed past him, he was swiftly shoved out of their way. He had readied himself to grab hold of one of them and demand a hurried explanation but stopped when he heard a familiar voice call out his title.

Edward whirled around and watched Major Miles push himself through the turmult throng of soldiers that separated them. As the latter hopped out from the bustling crowd, Edward yelled, "Where's Mustang?!"

"'Mustang,'" the Major called over the noise. "I haven't seen him. But he's not important right now. I need you to go back to your room until this is over-"

"What's happening," Edward demanded, ignoring the other Major's order. "What's going on?"

"Drachma," Miles answered loudly. "They attacked when we were changing shifts. They—" He stopped and jerked his head around as a soldier rushed over to him and began to beg for orders, exclaiming that Hakuro's were running them in circles. When he began to bark them back, Edward grasped the opportunity and dipped around them, ignoring his order to stop.

Though he had hardly spoken to the Major, he had heard enough to at least gather what was happening. He had mentioned that Drachma had carried out an attack when they were switching guards, and that was enough to set off alarm bells in Edward's mind. But the deciding factor for his rash decision was that soldier who was begging for orders. It was too convenient for Drachma to not only deliver a surprise blow to Briggs during a brief moment of weakness, and even more so for them to implement it the very day Briggs was placed under the command of a new General. It was too perfect, and Edward could not help but believe that it was planned.

It made sense after all, he theorized as he ducked beneath a tank shell being totted around by two soldiers and continued to run, as to how this could be happening. As to why, he was not sure, though he couldn't help but think that the Homunculus had some part in it. He dove behind a pile of crates when he saw Major Miles approaching, managing to avoid the soldier's frantic search for him.

Another blast shook the fort and Edward braced himself against the boxes, eyes scanning the part of the room he could see from behind them in search of the familiar navy uniform that Mustang usually wore. He was about to dip behind the boxes again when his first search proved unsuccessful, but he stopped midway through his second hunt, zeroing in on a flash of blue that disappeared down a flight of stairs he knew led down into the cement tunnels that ran along the bottom of the fort. Edward stole another glance around and saw that Miles had vanished and, deciding that he did not have another moment to waste, dashed out from behind the crates and sprinted toward the spot he had seen the vision of blue vanish.

He successfully wove himself through the myriad of soldiers that were delivering supplies and making their way to their stations and quickly found himself standing at the top of the steps, staring down into a vast expanse of black. Edward took a moment to steel himself and sucked in a deep breath, but just before he began to descend the stairs, he hesitated, realizing that the darkness had changed and had almost seemed to grow lighter. He squinted and confirmed that what he was seeing was what he had deduced. It had definitely grown brighter. But rather than a focal spot of light from a lantern or a flame, it seemed as though it were radiating from a much larger source.

Another tremble tore through the fort. He reached out and grabbed the railing to prevent himself from stumbling. By then his eyes had adjusted, making the light appear even brighter. And even stranger, he almost thought he could feel a light wisp of wind travel up through the tunnel, eliciting a shiver from him.

He knew that the longer he stood and speculated, the more of a chance there was that whoever, or whatever, had disappeared down there would be too far gone for him to pursue. With that in mind, he took a moment to look around to be sure that he would not be followed. When he confirmed that neither Miles nor Buccaneer were there, he turned back to the tunnel and exhaled before he bounded down the stairs.

* * *

It only took him a couple of turns down a few corridors before Edward came upon a room. From the looks of it, it appeared to be a storage room for an assortment of items for the men stationed there, though he wasn't sure. Because his focus immediately after his brief observation fell upon the massive hole that appeared to have been blown in the wall, allowing the brutal northern air from outside to pool into the room.

Edward rushed forward and stopped in front of it, peering out into the wintery darkness. It didn't take him long to make out a number of dark shapes in the distance; what he believed to be Drachman tanks and soldiers. He knew that if he didn't seal the hole, it was entirely possible that they would discover it and infiltrate the fort if things went south. With that thought in his mind, he leapt over to the side of the hole and clapped his hands together, preparing himself to use what remained of the cement to temporarily cover it before he would work to make it sturdier. He stopped, however, when he saw what clearly were transmutation markings along its edges. Edward reached out, about to brush his fingers over them when a blast of heat encompassed him and forced him to jump away from the wall. He whirled around and raised his fists to his face as the Homunculus stepped into the room, its hand elevated and poised to snap.

Edward stood his ground and narrowed his eyes, watching as the Homunculus paced forward and stopped on the other side of the flame wall it had constructed between them. "So it was you," he snarled as a smirk graced its face. "You're the one who started all of this."

The Homunculus arched a brow. "I'll admit that that handiwork over there was my doing, though I can't take credit for what is happening at this moment."

"Why is Drachma attacking Briggs," Edward demanded.

'Mustang' sneered. "Telling you would take all of the fun out of it, Fullmetal."

It crept closer and Edward backpedaled until he could feel the fire behind him licking at his back. Remembering that he had activated his alchemy, he pressed his flesh hand to his metal arm, produced a blade and took a fighting stance. "Then tell me," he snarled, "How is it that you're able to perform alchemy?"

The Homunculus's brows lifted, genuinely surprised. "I thought you had already figured it out, Edward. The Colonel has graciously decided to share his Gate and all of his secrets about alchemy with me. After that," he said as he snapped his fingers, producing a small flame, "It was a rather steep learning curve."

Edward's heart stalled. "So wait. You mean that the Colonel…" No. It had to be lying. The Colonel would never feebly hand over his Gate or secrets like that. It wasn't true… It couldn't be—

"I suppose you could say that it was forced from him if that will help you sleep at night. But that's enough about him," it declared as it took a step toward Edward. "What I want is for you to step aside. Interference will not be tolerated."

Edward defied his order and lifted his blade. "You're not going to take another step further. Not when I have anything to say about it," he snarled. "Not when the lives of everyone here are at stake!"

The Homunculus stopped its advance and lifted its brows. "I should have known that what you said yesterday was an act of defiance. But I suppose there's nothing I can do," it decreed as it drew its saber from its sheath and pointed it toward Edward. "But now, I won't make that same mistake again."

"I'm giving you one more chance to back down," Edward warned, taking a step back when it took one forward. "You can still stop this!"

Seeing his hesitance, the Homunculus continued its advance toward him. "It's too late for that, Fullmetal. What is happening here is something I can no longer control. Fort Briggs _will_ fall and every soldier stationed here along with it. The only thing that I can change is the number of casualties. If you fight alongside me, your brother and your precious childhood friend will remain safe. But if you don't, they too will meet an untimely demise. _That_ much I can guarantee. So what will it be, Fullmetal? The clock is ticking…"

Edward took another set of steps away and stopped when he felt the flames licking against his back. He would become a pawn for them one hundred times over, but when more lives were at stake he… He just couldn't. He stole a glance toward the demolished wall behind him, remembering its size. If he could seal it, then Drachma's chances for infiltrating the fort would be stalled, and countless lives would be saved.

But if he made a move to do so and the Homunculus won, then Alphonse and Winry…

Edward shook the thoughts from his head. He had faced Mustang's flames before. He knew to a certain extent what he was facing. If he could reduce the number of lives that would be lost and subdue the Homunculus like they had Gluttony, then he could reach out to his brother and Winry.

He _would_ save them.

He _would_ fight.

As though it understood his intentions, the Homunculus closed its eyes and tightened its grip on its blade. "Very well, Fullmetal. Your insubordination will be your ultimate downfall. So them," it growled, opening its eyes to reveal a red Ouroboros in its left, "Be prepared to answer to my _wrath_."

* * *

Next chapter (aka 'the second-to-worst' scene):

* * *

 _"You idiot! Why… Why didn't you move," Edward gasped as blood continued to pour from the wound that penetrated the Colonel's chest._

 _Mustang coughed up the blood and phlegm that had accumulated in his mouth and reached up, grasping the arm connected to the blade that had pierced his heart. And then, despite everything else, a frail smile formed on his lips. "I'm sorry, Fullmetal," he whispered as his eyes fluttered closed. "But... Thank you…"_


	16. Chapter 16

**A/N:** _I'm working on everything else right now. I just had to get this chapter out! Please let me know if anyone seems OOC or anything feels rushed (especially Winry - who is getting a major bout of development soon!)! This chapter is the last one that will loosely follow canon. From now on it will deviate severely from canon! Thank you for your feedback and reviews! They're greatly appreciated! 3_

* * *

" _W-Winry… I think… I think I just saw my body."_

Winry bowed forward and dug her fingers into her scalp, replaying Alphonse's panicked words over and over in her mind until they stuck. The raw, unabated fear in his voice as he told her what he had seen once again sent shivers up her spine, and had prevented her from falling asleep. There were too many variables; too many things that had happened that she had so desperately tried to organize and make sense of. But all she could think about, and what had ultimately found itself at the forefront of her mind, was how Alphonse had changed before her very eyes.

They had gotten back to the hotel later than they normally would. Alphonse had only been gone for a few minutes but, fearing he would dissociate again, they opted to stay behind at Central Command until they both felt comfortable moving again. But once he had finally explained that he was well enough to move, Winry immediately noticed that something about him was… different. She hadn't been able to place her finger on it then, and she found that she still had trouble placing it at that time too. At least from what she could determine, it was as though a piece of him had been left behind. Like the optimism he had been exuding before had vanished, and had left behind an Alphonse that hadn't completely been himself. Though, she supposed, that should be expected given what had happened.

What she had wished, and had hoped, was that he would abandon that image once they were alone, but even that was not meant to be. Instead she was left as in the dark as Jerso and Zampano had been, even when they were alone together. The only thing he had explained was that he saw a Gate standing in a vast expanse of white, and his body had been seated in front of it. His body had beckoned him to come closer, promising his return with the simple touch of a hand. Their two guards seemed surprised by his recounting, not completely understanding the alchemy involved. Even though Winry knew about as much as they did about soul-binding alchemy and its rules, she was at least able to decipher in his soul-fire eyes his hesitation when prompted by them as to why he didn't return to his body. She could see the want flickering in his eyes. He had wanted it so badly. But even then, something was not meant to be.

He had shaken his head and lied, telling them that he didn't want his body back. At least, not yet. The revelation seemed to confuse them, but they accepted it for the time being, thankful that their charge was in one piece yet again. Their concern was evident, but it was something he had tried to lessen by explaining to them that what ultimately mattered was that he had returned to the body he was currently occupying.

Winry hoped that he would elaborate for her, but the explanation she hurriedly received once they were alone was that if he had accepted what his body had offered, he would have likely been stuck at the Gate. And that if that happened, there would be no telling when or if he would ever be able to return.

It wasn't something she had even considered before. She thought that the reunion with his body would be the end of the road, but not in that sense. Never had she thought that he would have to open the Gate again by sacrificing something else for a toll.

She closed her eyes and took a deep breath. If that were to happen, she honestly wouldn't know what to do. Winry had been tossed into a situation full of monsters and alchemy that she still had trouble understanding. Alphonse and Edward were the ones she always turned to when she needed an explanation, and with the former possibly fluctuating from the Gate to reality and the latter unreachable, she was virtually useless. Just as small and insignificant as Lust made her feel…

An image of the Homunculus flashed through her mind. It was enough to break what little solace she had found while surrounded in the nest of blankets and pillows she had built to reinforce what little comfort the home away from home gave her. Her skin began to crawl and she suddenly felt as though she were in the room with her, watching. She jerked her head up with a strangled gasp and frantically scanned the darkened room for any signs of her blonde hair or wicked smile. But just like she had known in her heart, there was no one else in the room with her.

Winry took a few deep breaths and admonished herself for allowing her fears to get the best of her. She reminded herself that the Homunculus likely wouldn't care enough to follow and torment them in that manner. In fact, she didn't even care enough to verify that Alphonse was gone like she had believed him to be. Lust never returned after she stumbled out of the office, and in Winry's mind it had been for the best. What had happened between the time she and Alphonse had entered the office to the moment the Homunculus had fled the scene was nothing short of a revelation that Winry was still trying to process.

She had wanted so desperately to believe Ed and Al and their promise that Colonel Mustang and Lieutenant Hawkeye wouldn't let anything harm them, but after every encounter with Lust she felt her resolve grow weaker. She balled her hands into fists and carefully eased herself back into the conversation she had with Lust, along with her encounter with Riza.

Her reaction to what had happened to Alphonse had been fueled by her uncertainty and lack of understanding as to what had become of him. The Homunculus only added to her emotionally-charged confrontation by digging deep into Winry's psyche and extracting her already fragile view of the Lieutenant, fracturing it even further. She found herself questioning everything she had been led to believe by Ed and Al, and the Homunculi.

Why hadn't the Lieutenant made an appearance when Lust had taken her captive in the tunnels that ran beneath Central Command? Why was it only after Lust had pointed out her lack of some sort of presence that the Lieutenant came through? Had it been because she no longer cared? That her resolve to protect them had vanished when Lust took command of her body? Or was it like Edward and Alphonse had said, and that the Homunculi had complete control, only giving it up when it was convenient for them?

She recalled them telling her that both Riza and Colonel Mustang both managed to break through when the Homunculi were first discovered. But even then, it seemed to Ed and Al that the reason it happened was because the Homunculi wanted to gain the upper hand; that they had _allowed_ them to.

She pushed her fingers through her hair, trying to separate what she believed from what she was supposed to believe. But it was hard. It was difficult to even know what she believed anymore. Did she still trust Riza or had she ultimately decided to discount her the way she had Lust? Her actions seemed to suggest the latter, but something tugged at her heart and begged her to reconsider. Should she trust Ed and Al about the slight possibility they could save Riza and Colonel Mustang, or should she give up the way everyone else had?

She didn't know… She didn't know… _She didn't know_.

All she wanted was to talk to Alphonse and right herself, but not even he had been available. She had given him the space he needed, just as she had needed before, to recollect himself and understand what had happened, offering her presence if he needed it.

But he had turned her down, opting to take time to himself to try and understand what had happened to him.

And she had let him. Allowing him to wander the hotel and suite alone as he thought and read and tried to process everything. He had given her that courtesy, and she believed she should extend it to him as well. But now, after so many hours had passed without any signs of him coming forward to speak to her, she began to regret that decision. There was nothing more that she wanted than to hear his thoughts. She wanted to comfort him just as he had for her, and she for him numerous times before. With a sigh, she opened her eyes and peered toward the door to look for any signs that a light was still on.

Winry pushed the covers back and swung her legs over the edge of the bed, taking care to make as little noise as possible when her feet touched the floor. Easing herself off the bed as slowly as she could to prevent its springs from groaning, she straightened herself out and padded over to the door that separated the room she had been sleeping in from the suite's seating area. She blindly reached out and felt through the darkness until her hand found and gripped the door handle. She turned it slowly and then hesitated to listen, straining to hear anything on the other side of the door that would indicate whether Alphonse was moving around or not, an indicator she had used to determine if she needed to crack the door open. But when she didn't hear any movement, she slowly pushed the door open and peered out.

It seemed she had missed the moment he had decided to turn his reading lamp off, as it took a few moments for her eyes to adjust to the room's darkness. Once they had she saw that the large form that had been seated on the couch had instead moved, opting to sit on the floor against the wall furthest from the door. She waited, watching for any signs of movement from her childhood friend, looking for the familiar flicker of his soul-fire eyes. But as she watched him, a feeling of panic tugged at her heart. Something about his posture, the way his head was lowered with knees drawn into his chest, seemed wrong. He looked… inanimate. As though he were empty.

The thought turning the uneasiness she felt into a full-blown bout of panic, Winry pushed the door open and clambered through the darkness over to him. Her hands found their way to his knee and just as his name escaped her lips, the armor jumped.

"Winry," he gasped, turning his soul-fire eyes toward him. "I'm sorry, I… I didn't hear you."

"It's okay, Al," she assured him. "I… didn't say anything anyways."

"Oh." His shoulders sagged, though the tension that was present in both his body and the air around him remained. "Are you okay?"

No, she wanted to say. She _wasn't_ okay. And neither should he be, she believed. From the moment he had returned to his body, she could see him grappling with his emotions as he tried to understand what had happened to him. It had been difficult, if not impossible to begin to discuss it with Jerso and Zampano flanking them, because from what they could tell they didn't seem to know that they were being manipulated by a Homunculus. Their concern had been genuine, and for that they both had been thankful. But a sense of uncertainty hung in the air between the two parties, and it remained there from the moment Alphonse had reassured them that he was okay to the time they both begrudgingly left them alone at the hotel. And it, unfortunately, had remained behind with them, drawing an invisible boundary between the two of them.

It was odd losing that line of communication with him. In the past they had always been able to work through whatever hardships they were both facing. She had thought that it had opened again when she confessed her thoughts to him after what happened at Mrs. Hughes', but now it seemed that the tables had been turned: that, rather than she who had blocked him out before, it was now he who was barring and refusing to let her in.

Winry settled down next to him and pulled her legs to her chest, resting her chin on her knees. She sighed. "I don't even know anymore, Al."

He turned toward her, alarmed. "What do you mean?"

Winry shook her head. "I'm alright… For the most part," she admitted. "But what I'm concerned about is you, Al."

His body went rigid and he averted his gaze from hers. "Oh…"

His answer stung. It wasn't the answer she had expected from the Alphonse she knew. The child she knew had been so much more open with her, and never hid what was on his mind for her. It was something she had always admired about him. But now she could feel the wall between them begin to form again.

Fearing another obstacle similar to what they had encountered when she had withdrawn from him, she placed a hand on his arm, forcing him to look at her again. Their eyes locked and for a second neither one of them moved, stretching the moment as long as they could before they delved into the conversation they had avoided after they had returned home.

The silence was deafening… And she couldn't take it anymore.

"Al," she finally said, breaking their quiet, "I need to know what you're thinking. I don't want you to be alone with your thoughts for a second longer."

He didn't seem surprised by her declaration; if anything, he had expected her to jump to it. His soul-fire eyes danced back and forth, appreciating her expression and the desperation that accompanied it. His shoulders slumped and he turned his eyes away from her. "I guess I'm still trying to process what happened," he admitted, pulling his knees closer to his chest. "Even after all this thought, I'm still trying to understand what it was that made me leave and go to my body."

Winry was surprised by that revelation. It was as though he had another reason aside from what had happened prior when Lust had touched his blood seal that could have accounted for what had become of him. She didn't utter anything in protest, however, and instead waited for him to continue and explain.

Seeing that she wasn't going to interrupt, Alphonse moved his shoulders up and down. "I don't know what happened, Winry. And I'm trying so hard to figure out what it was because I don't want to assume something wrong."

"What do you mean, exactly," she pressed. "Do you think that it might not have been caused by what she had done?"

His armored body stiffened, and she momentarily regretted bringing it up so abruptly. But when his shoulders loosened and his body relaxed, she reminded herself that the topic would have come up eventually. What would matter was whether he had worked through his thoughts enough to distinguish between the reasons he had gathered for what could have happened. Then, finally, he shook his head and uttered, "I… don't know, Winry. On one hand, it seems logical that what happened before could have caused this since she had touched my blood seal, but on the other I know that there is another explanation for what had happened. Something that seems more plausible to me."

Winry's brows knitted together. "'Another explanation,'" she echoed.

He nodded and curled into himself, somehow seeming to shrink before her eyes. "Brother and I met others like me, who were disembodied souls attached to suits of armor. One of them made me realize that my armor will eventually reject my soul because it's incompatible. So it could be possible that the body I have is beginning to reject my soul."

One of the biggest shortcomings in regards to Alphonse being stuck to the armor was the fact that she could no longer read his expressions or his eyes. All she _could_ do was listen to the smallest inflections in his voice to try and determine what he was thinking. And at least, as far as she could tell, he was struggling between the two options that had been laid out on the table in front of him.

"Is that what you really think happened," she asked, albeit a bit skeptically. He gasped and lifted his head, eyes flickering across her face. Realizing how her question might have come off, she took a metaphorical step back and softened her expression.

It seemed to do little to comfort him, as his armored body began to quiver. Then, without warning he cried, "Just _hold on_!"

Shocked by his outburst, Winry gasped and flinched away. He remained adamant in his position turned toward her, hands curled into fists and soul-fire eyes burning. But then, after a few moments the tension left his armor and he seemed to collapse into himself. He was the one who finally broke the silence by burying his face into his hands. "I'm… I'm sorry," he choked. "I didn't mean to yell."

"No, Al…" Winry placed a hand on arm. "I'm sorry…"

"You shouldn't be," came his muffled reply. "It's just…" His voice broke and he shook his head, stopping short of what he was going to say.

Afraid of saying something that would push him further, Winry kept quiet, keeping her hand pressed against his shoulder.

"It's just… I don't know _what_ to think. All I can think about is how you and everyone else will say that it's because of what Lust did to me and I… I just can't accept that yet! I don't want to believe that Lieutenant Hawkeye and Colonel Mustang are gone or unreachable. I just can't!" He dragged his fingers down his face and looked up, eyes fixated on the corner of the room nearest them. "I'm just," he began softly. "Not ready to give up, even though everyone else thinks that I should."

"I don't want to give up," she admitted softly, loosening her hold on his arm as she turned her gaze away from him. "But," she said with a sigh, "I just don't know what to think anymore."

"Then think about hope."

She spun around and saw that he had turned to look at her again. Catching her eye, he said it again. "Then think about hope. That they're still in there and fighting. Because as long as I have that hope, I will continue to fight for them."

Winry's hands fidgeted and she locked her fingers together, unlocked them, and them locked them again. Hope… "But how do you know," she whispered. "That they're still fighting, Al? How do you know that they can be saved?"

"Because someone once told me that nothing is impossible," he quipped. "If that's true, then there's something we're missing here. Something we haven't discovered about the Philosopher's Stone yet. If we can figure that out, then we can pull them apart. And," he added, "I saw them once before and know that we'll see them again. They're strong, and I know they're still fighting and—" he tapered off. She could feel his eyes on her, scrutinizing what her body language said that she had been unable to speak. "What… what's wrong, Winry?"

She winced, locking her fingers together again. "I saw her, Al," she admitted with a whisper. "After you vanished it was just the two of us. And then… she came through."

"She did," he gasped. "What did she say?"

She dismissed his excitement with a solemn nod. "Al… I didn't give her the chance to speak." Winry rested her forehead against her knees and took a shaking breath. "I was angry, Al, because Lust made me believe she had damaged your blood seal beyond repair, and that Miss Riza had stayed back because she no longer cared. And I…" she swallowed thickly, "I called her a monster." Out of the corner of her eye she saw Al pull away and straighten himself. Whether it was in shock or because he was appalled, she was not sure. But she didn't stop there, the words, the regrets, now pouring from her lips. "I could see it in her eyes," she continued. "It was her… It was her and… I just dismissed her along with those monsters." She pulled her trembling hands apart, no longer able to keep them laced together, and bowed her head. "I'm… I'm so sorry."

He shifted, and for a moment she thought that he was removing himself from her. Not that she would blame him. Every time she revisited that confrontation, she found that she hated herself more every time. Her doubts, her fears, were slowly being ebbed away by Alphonse's discovery. And now all she felt was regret and an image of Riza's face in her mind, and the utter betrayal and hurt it displayed.

"I don't blame you, Winry." She rubbed the corners of her eyes with her wrists and looked up at him. "Back when we faced the first Lust, she told Lieutenant Hawkeye that she had killed Colonel Mustang. She believed her and reacted in a similar manner. So," he said, threading his hands together in his lap. "I can understand what was going through your mind."

His words did little to comfort her. Did he really understand, or had he simply been saying that to make her feel better? The more his words replayed in her mind, the worse she had felt about it. But at the same time, she wanted to verify it. Because in some way, seeing for herself that Al's blood seal was intact would give her the closure, and would finally lay to rest the doubt she had held in her mind.

"Al," she whispered, gesturing to his helmet. "Can I…?"

"Oh… Of course." He leaned forward and pulled his helmet off, exposing his blood seal to her. "I know that I have to still keep that option on the table until I see Brother again, but as of right now I don't think that it did." He pointed toward the traces of blood that had been drawn into the intricate pattern that would bind him to their physical world and said, "I've looked at it over and over and over again. Nothing to indicate that any damage was done to it. Of course, I won't know for certain until Ed comes home, but from what I can see there isn't anything that would suggest that Lust had anything to do with what happened to me. Also," he added, "If she did, it would have been the moment she had touched it.

"Winry… What I'm trying to say is that I don't think Lust did that to me."

For the first time that evening, she saw how bright and sure his eyes had shone. How absolutely certain he seemed by what he had revealed. And it… made sense, at least by how he had described it. She placed a hand on the edge of the opening and peered inside, catching the outline of the

His torso shook and he bowed forward to give her a better view of the seal. Gripping the other side of the opening, she leaned inside, using the faint glow of the streetlights outside to guide her eyes around it. And from what she could tell, he was right. Though they had scrutinized it before and had seen nohting, there was nothing new she could see on it that suggested it had been damaged to the point of having its alchemic flow disrupted. It blurred for a moment and she blinked, realizing that tears had begun to collect in her eyes.

It… It couldn't have been her.

Lust had lied and Winry took the bait, and she had lashed out at Riza as a result. She tore a hand away from the edge of Al's armor to cover her mouth, stifling a sob as the gravity of what she had said, and his revelation, finally sank in.

* * *

So it _was_ Wrath after all…

Edward supposed that, of the seven sins that could be endowed on the Colonel he had known, that was the one that would be the most 'compatible.' He had seen what he was capable of when his temper took control.

Despite feeling like his heart was going to burst out of his chest, Edward held his blade at the ready and said, "I was starting to think you didn't have a name since we kept dancing around that topic. It'll be nice to no longer have to call you by that bogus rank you got."

The corner of Wrath's lip twitched and for a moment Edward thought he had struck a chord with the Homunculus. But then it relaxed its hold on the saber in its hand and grinned. "Would you have said the same when I was your Fuhrer?"

A chill traveled down Edward's spine. Wrath was the Fuhrer? Was it possible that Fuhrer Bradley had been the previous host for the Homunculus? No, he concluded as he curled his automail hand into a fist. That was impossible. The Fuhrer had died the day before. Wrath had come to fruition well before that had happened.

Unless…

Unless it had been removed from Bradley. Was it possible that the Homunculi could be removed? And if so, would that mean that the host would die shortly after? The revelation spurred more questions than answers, and with the situation he found himself in, he knew he wouldn't get all the feedback he needed. Especially considering the attack was still underway. He turned his head slightly, just enough to see out of the corner of his eye the massive opening Wrath had created. It was stalling by dangling its information in front of him. He needed to seal it at the very least and ensure that Wrath wouldn't open it again.

He cautiously slid his foot out from his side, keeping his eyes trained on the Homunculus. Maybe keeping it talking _was_ the only way he'd be able to complete his task. "I probably would've said the same," he answered.

It lifted a brow, a somewhat skeptical look stretching across its face. "Are you suggesting that you would have disrespected your Fuhrer and king?"

Edward scoffed. "Your position of power wouldn't have changed the fact that you're still a monster."

"'A monster,' hmm," it echoed. "You might consider me a such, but as far as anyone else is concerned, I _am_ human. Just," Wrath added as it lifted a hand a curled it into a fist, "More evolved."

"Sure," Edward bit back. "Is that what you tell all the upper brass sheep? Let them think you're like them and then offer them the immortality they crave so they follow you?"

Its eyes flashed with interest and its lips parted with surprise. The deduction hadn't taken much for Edward to conclude on, though it was rather bold. By its reaction, however, it seemed he had hit the mark. Just like how Raven had offered protection to General Armstrong, several the other higher-ranking officers had been given the same promise. If it was true, Edward could not be certain. The only thing he could bank on was the fact that the giant transmutation circle that encompassed the entire country had the capacity to take the lives of millions of people. The idea that those souls could be used to create Philosopher's Stones for them was not too far-fetched, though there was no telling the Homunculi and their creator had any such plans to do so.

"I suppose that could be true," Wrath answered. "Though… Wouldn't you think that I would want keep one of my closest allies alongside me, Edward? Someone willing to follow us for what we have to offer would surely be an asset."

Edward's lip twisted with disgust. The one in question, of course, was General Raven. Someone neither he nor Mustang had particularly liked. Even if he had been a part of the plan, Wrath still didn't have an appropriate reason for killing him. "You said so yourself; he was nothing but a pawn to you just like the rest of them."

Its lips split into a smile. "As long as they believe the former, Fullmetal, then they are welcome to follow for as long as they are needed."

"And then you'll just discard them like trash, right?"

"General Raven served his purpose," Wrath pointed out. "He's one of two who have started what will be one of the most pivotal moments in this nation's history."

"'Two'," Edward echoed. "What ' _two_?' The only person I remember dying was General Raven, and that was by _your_ hand."

"True," the Homunculus said with a light shrug. "I won't deny that I killed General Raven. He was no longer useful to me after all. But," it added as the corners of its lips lifted, "You can't deny your involvement in helping to create the crest of blood, _Elric_."

"I already told you," he growled. "I refuse to take any part in your sick plan." Its lips parted in response and it tilted its head with feigned fascination. Edward felt the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end. Something about its expression was deeply unsettling, as though there were something more it was trying to guide him toward.

Wrath had said Edward was involved in the creation of this supposed 'blood crest,' but he had done nothing that would involve himself with them at all, save for the fact that he had agreed to come to Briggs in the first place. Though even that could not have been helped. It was only natural for him to protect his friends and family, even if it meant putting himself in the hands of the Homunculi. But he had made that promise with his morals intact, and that included his vow to never take a life.

The Homunculus took a step forward, forcing Edward to take two back. "You know, you don't have to physically rip the life from someone to kill them, Fullmetal. There are other means by which one can tear their life away."

"I have no idea what you're talking about," came Edward's response to the Homunculus's cryptic response. He took another step back toward the defect Wrath had created in the fort's wall, slowly lifting his hands to chest level. He decided that he had one shot at closing it and preventing the massive number of casualties that the Homunculus was predicting.

Wrath lifted its brows, well-aware of what Edward was plotting. Still, it made no immediate movement toward him, either waiting for its words spoken to him to take effect or to see whether he would follow through with defying its plan. Instead it moved the blade from its right hand to its left, rubbing the fabric of the glove on its hand between its fingers. Edward could see the sparks snapping around the fabric with every movement, each one growing larger and becoming more violent than the last. Then, without warning it lifted its hand and poised its fingers. Then, it snapped.

Edward was thankful that he already had the formula in his mind for transmuting concrete because he didn't have a moment to spare. He clapped his hands together and slapped the ground, beckoning a massive slab of cement to come forth and shield him from the burst of fire that had been ignited. A large crack immediately fractured through the center of the wall, the infrastructure too weak for what Edward had initially calculated for blast's force and temperature. He whirled around and slammed his hands against the ground again, calling forth dozens of walls to separate them and took off running toward the hole he needed to seal.

Catching the glint of something metal out of the corner of his eye, he turned. Wrath's blade cut through the air with so much speed that he barely had time to shield himself from its blow. It ricocheted off the blade he transmuted on his arm and then returned on the backhand swing. He blocked the forthcoming strike and used its force to fling himself away from the Homunculus. Edward clapped his hands together again and ducked to avoid a third attack, then pressed them to the floor. The resulting pillar shot him into the air, far enough from Wrath's blade to give him a moment to reorient himself. Just as he attempted to, however, he caught sight of an orange flash out of the corner of his eye. Knowing that one of the walls he had constructed was within a jump's length of him, he kicked himself off the edge of the pillar and propelled himself toward it. The moment his foot contacted the top of the wall, he heard another snap. His knee buckled beneath him and he made a controlled fall off the wall. Using the momentum from his fall, he tumbled across the floor until he reached another barrier and dove around it.

He pressed his back against the barrier and forced himself to take a few breaths to try and recover. The Homunculus hadn't offered any explanation for its assault, but something had clearly set it off at some point during their conversation. Maybe it was his refusal to take part in their plan or his failure to press it for more information regarding it, because at that point all he had gathered was that they were trying to take as many lives as possible. In some ways, it seemed almost reminiscent of the Ishvalan War; a senseless slaughter that only seemed to have been enacted to spill as much blood as possible. Something he was confident had to do with the transmutation circle he and Major Falman had discovered after surveying the tunnel they had discovered. What was its connection with a 'crest of blood…?'

Now that he had a moment to recoup, however, he found himself trying to decipher what it meant when it had said two lives had been taken. He had already addressed General Raven when they shared a brief interlude between his discovery of the fractured wall and Wrath's attack, but aside from that no other words were exchanged to relay to Edward what it had meant. Though… he hadn't exactly pressed it on the subject, having believed at that moment that it was spewing nonsense to try and throw him off from his goal. But now that he found himself alone with his thoughts, he found that his mind was buzzing with even more questions.

He exhaled and steeled himself. Maybe it was the separation between them that fueled him, but for whatever reason he suddenly felt more confident. Edward leaned over and peered around the edge of the barrier, and found that the Homunculus was no longer where he had last seen him. After checking his other side to find that it wasn't there, he cleared his throat and called forth his nerves. "What did you mean when you said there were two that had perished here already," he called. "Who else have you felled?"

"You haven't noticed?" Its voice sounded distant, like it was a few barriers away from him. The Homunculus was taking its time getting to him, no longer exhibiting the speed nor the desperation it had demonstrated to him a few moments prior. "I'm surprised you haven't realized it, Fullmetal."

"You're avoiding the subject," he countered. "Or maybe you're avoiding it because you're lying through your teeth."

It chuckled; a deep, sinister laugh. "I'll let you sort it out. It's much more fun that way."

This time its voice sounded closer, as if it had closed the distance between them considerably from the time he had spoken to the time it answered. He spun around just in time to see it prepare to swing. Edward pushed away from the wall, its blades catching the tip of his braid and shredding the hairs at the end of it. Wrath swung again and he faltered, this time managing to avoid its blade by sheer luck.

Then his foot hit a piece of rubble and he fell, altogether avoiding a third swing from the Homunculus. His hands came together with a thunderous clap and he turned his body, falling into a pushup position. The resulting transmutation constructed a haphazard barrier between them, though it was more than enough for Edward. He scrambled to his feet and ducked behind another barrier, and then slapped his hands together again and pressed it against the wall he had hidden behind. This reconstruction created pores in the wall which gave way to spikes. He pushed again, forcing the wall to submit to his design by pushing it forward to impact Wrath.

Edward did not stay behind to see whether it hit the Homunculus or not, opting to focus on his primary goal of sealing the fissure in the fort's wall it had created. He slammed his hands together a fourth time, already finished with a formula that would ensure his transmutation be successful when a sharp pain in his back tore his attention from it. He stumbled and crashed to his hands and knees, dazed by the sharp discomfort that seemed to blossom from his spine to his sides.

The glint of something constructed from steel caught his attention and he turned his head, watching as a set of boots stopped beside him. The blade he had been fighting to defend himself against fell in line with them, hanging loosely from Wrath's hand. He watched as the blood on the blade's sharpened edge collected and then dripped to the ground. It took him a few moments to realize that it was his blood he was seeing, but once he did the discomfort he felt become all the more painful. His breath hitched and he collapsed onto his elbows. Its attacks had all been close, some closer than others, but never had he imagined that Wrath would purposefully inflict something so severe on him. Edward took a moment, which it seemed to allow, to catch his breath, trying to find meaning behind its actions. But no amount of soul-searching could find reason with what it was doing. It contradicted everything the Homunculus said it was after. So, with no other options left, Edward decided that he would need to address it personally if he wanted to decipher its true intentions.

"What…" he gasped. "Going back on your claim that I'm a 'precious sacrifice'?"

It huffed and flicked its blade, spattering droplets of blood across the pavement. "Hardly," Wrath retorted. "You're still just as valuable to me as you were before."

Edward gritted his teeth together, the sharp sting from the wound having developed from a dull pressure to a deep pain. "Then why the excessive force," he wheezed. He was surprised, and ashamed, by how weak his voice had sounded. Until that moment he had tried to keep a clear mind and a level demeanor. But now he felt himself slipping, growing more and more desperate to survive its assault.

"I don't need you fully intact," it replied matter-of-factly. "You just need to be intact when the moment is right."

"So then," he bit back as he pressed his forehead against the pavement. "What you're saying is that you still need me alive."

"That's right," it answered, a small smile in its voice. "If you aren't exactly intact, that'll be fine too."

Edward screwed his eyes closed and hissed, trying to collect himself again. The wound, it seemed, was deeper than he had previously thought, growing in its level of pain with every moment that passed. So it needed him alive but didn't necessarily need him intact? How did that play into their plan? What exactly were they planning with Briggs? The bloodshed that was to follow could possibly reach the magnitude of other battles that had occurred along the edge of the transmutation circle he and Falman had discovered. Was he not meant to be a part of it? Was his purpose as a 'sacrifice' something that was different? If so, what was he meant to do as a sacrifice? And how could he be sure that he hadn't already played into it?

He heard Wrath's boots scrape against the pavement and he turned his head to watch as it crouched down beside him. It cocked his head and smirked a stupid Mustang smile, as though amused by his predicament. "Do you want me to explain it now, Fullmetal? While you're," its eyes flickered from his face to his back, and then back to his eyes, "Incapacitated?"

"Just tell me what the hell you're doing here," he gritted his teeth. "What is your purpose?"

"'Purpose,'" it echoed as it sat back on its heels and scratched its chin with its free hand. "That's a little too in depth for the moment wouldn't you think?"

"Just tell me what you're doing now," he coughed, narrowing his eyes. "What is all of this?"

The grin left its face and it sighed, rubbing the back of its neck. "You already have most of this figured out, don't you?" Edward blinked and Wrath raised his brows, seemingly understanding what thoughts had crossed his mind. "There's a transmutation circle running around the entire circumference of this country, Fullmetal. One that will have a rather disastrous effect once its activated."

"The bloodshed that's been happening since the birth of this country…. Has something to do with it, right," he noted. "And now you're trying to complete it here, aren't you?"

The smirk returned. "I told you you already knew."

"How many then," Edward continued with a gasp. "How many more lives are you planning on taking before you complete the circle?"

Its shoulders lifted and then dropped. "As many as it takes," came its simple reply.

Edward sucked in a deep breath and pushed himself away from it, falling back onto his buttocks and hands. It lifted its brows, watching him curiously as he scrambled to get onto the heels of his feet.

"Don't like that answer?"

Edward growled. "I won't let you get away with this. Your reign of terror ends here, Wrath."

It feigned surprise. "'My reign of terror,'" the Homunculus echoed. "What about _your_ reign of terror, Fullmetal?"

"Quit trying to make me out like one of you," he hissed as he slowly rose to his feet. "You keep trying to lump me in with you. I'm nothing like you Homunculi."

It cocked its head, an almost sympathetic smile crossing its face. "Not like us? Edward, you've done nothing but play along since you found out about the Colonel and Lieutenant Hawkeye."

"Doesn't make me one of you." He clumsily lifted a hand and pressed it against a wall, trying to steady himself. The pain continued to grow, and he was confident that the amount of blood he was losing from the oblong cut on his back was affecting him. He had to remain vigilant, however, lest he make another error in judgement.

"You don't have to be a Homunculus to go against your creed," it remarked. "A life taken is a life taken. There is no difference."

"Would you _shut up_ ," he barked. "You're mistaking my compliance with your twisted plan to create your blood crest. The only reason I'm here is to protect my family and friends. My morals haven't shifted because of it."

It snorted. "Is that what you think, Edward?" It lifted its arms, as though presenting the entirety of the room to him. "Tell me; where was Vato Falman this morning when the fort was attacked? I didn't see him assisting his fellow soldiers with defending the fort."

Edward's heart stalled and he felt the blood in his cheeks grow cold. Hoping that it wouldn't notice his surprise, he said, "You're the one who had him locked up. Why don't you ask yourself that question?"

It clicked its tongue and shook his head. "Oh, I know that he wasn't present. But that wasn't because he was locked up as a precaution. Oh no. He wasn't there because he was no longer in the cell he had been confined to."

Edward fought every urge he had to reach up and wipe the sweat from his brow. It already knew?! It knew that Falman wasn't there any longer? It couldn't have been four hours or so since he had helped Falman escape his confines in favor of the tunnels that ran beneath the fort. He found that more and more questions began to flood his mind as the panic once again began to set in. Did it check every few hours to see whether or not Falman had been there? Because if so it was never indicated to him by Buccaneer nor Falman himself. Was it possible that he had checked just before he had trekked down to the lower catacombs to create the defect in the fort's defenses?

But then… Why would it? Falman seemed insignificant in the Homunculus's eyes. Why would it check on that one prisoner when the fort was under attack?

Unless. The blood drained from Edward's face and the chill that was streaming into the chamber they were in settled itself in his bones. Unless it knew beforehand.

"I can see the realization on your face, Fullmetal," it taunted. "You're trying to figure out how I know about Officer Falman's status. And right about now, you're trying to decide if I'm bluffing."

Edward balled his hands into fists. "Just tell me already," he barked. "Stop beating around the bush!"

Its brows lifted and an almost amused expression seemed to cross its face. It had enjoyed stringing him along for as long as it could. But now the time had come to face Edward and tell him what it had been beating around the bush about. Now was the time to—

"Vato Falman is dead, Fullmetal."

The words had fallen from its lips so effortlessly, so easily, that Edward didn't register them at first. But once he had taken a step back to replay those words again in his mind, he found himself completely, utterly stunned. He turned his head up, searching the Homunculus's face for any signs that it was lying. Its sickeningly smug smile greeted him, never wavering.

And his heart stopped.

"What… What do you mean," he choked. "Is that supposed to be some kind of sick joke?!"

He didn't want to believe it. He couldn't believe it, even though he knew its words pointed to it knowing Falman was gone. But he had seen him off. He had waited until he knew Falman wouldn't come back. "No… That… That can't _be_."

"Nothing happens in this fort that I'm not aware of, Edward," Wrath answered matter-of-factly. "Did you honestly expect that last-ditch effort to save his life would actually work? That by sending him away into the tunnels would prevent the fate that he had been dealt? The only thing you prevented was a death by my hand. And by doing so you instead subjected him to a death far worse than any I could have dealt him."

"You're lying," Edward countered in an effort to call its bluff. He remained there by the trap door long enough that he was _confident_ Falman hadn't returned. And if anything had happened to him, he would have been able to hear it. It was lying to him… _It was lying to him_.

Wrath clicked its tongue and shook its head. "You underestimate our capacity, even though you've been introduced to so many of its elements, Fullmetal."

Edward's brows knitted together and he found himself at a loss. He had seen the pieces they had in play and he made sure to account for every single one of them when plotting Falman's exodus. There was nothing that could possibly— Something black flashed before his mind's eye and derailed his train of thought, turning him toward one of the more sinister elements they had encountered.

The chatter of metal against metal tore his attention away from the Homunculus and he looked down, and realized that his automail arm was quivering. He reached down and gripped his wrist to prevent it from continuing, but realized that it was more than just his arm that was shaking.

"Do you understand now?"

His lifted his head and saw a malicious smile form on Homunculus's face, and his fear was confirmed. Edward licked his lips and swallowed, trying to wet his throat which had become dry. "You mean… That other Homunculus…?"

"That's right," it answered. "Unfortunately for you and Vato Falman, my 'friend' has full control of the tunnels that surround this nation. All it takes is a little call and they will be on the case within minutes." Its eyes flickered back and forth, absorbing the shock that had crossed Edward's face, and it tutted. "You should take comfort knowing that his end was likely quick, Fullmetal. He likely didn't even know what it was that ended him."

Edward heard its words, but at the same time didn't. It was too much for his mind to process.

Because of his negligence and lack of understanding, he had led Falman to his death. Much like leading a sheep to slaughter.

The deliverance of that news rocked him and he lifted his flesh hand to his head, suddenly overwhelmed by the voices of the others he had failed before and during that time.

There was Hughes, who he and Al had unintentionally guided into pursuing their questions for them. The one they had given the idea that there was something more to the government that employed them. It was because of them and their pursuits that he was attacked and ultimately killed by one of the Homunculi.

Then there was Hawkeye. He saw firsthand the desperate plea in her eyes and voice when she had managed to break through Lust's control to warn them of their capture. She had begged them to end their lives to prevent the Homunculi from fulfilling their roles, even though she knew they wouldn't be able to follow through with it. And now she and Mustang were trapped in their own bodies, prisoners to the embodiment of god's forbidden sins.

And Mustang… The one he whose body he was fighting at that moment. Both he and Hawkeye had participated in genocide once before, and now he was about to be forced to partake in it in another form. Though he hadn't seen it in his eyes, he knew that Mustang had to be in there fighting against what the Homunculus had willed his body to do, using his hands and alchemy to cause the destruction necessary to complete the crest of blood.

He couldn't forget Ling or Lan Fan, or even Fu. The night they had found Lan Fan injured and begging for them to rescue Ling, he had never once thought it would turn out the way that it did. That he too had been taken and changed into a Greed he wasn't familiar with. Lan Fan and Fu had retreated so that the former could heal, and Edward still hadn't seen Ling's body again. He had nothing for them should they return.

There was Team Mustang, who had been separated from their superior officers by the entire ordeal, every one of them torn away from their posts to be repositioned as far from Central Command as they could be. None of the remaining team members would know at this point about Major Falman and what he had done to protect Edward, and might not even know until well after the fact that he had been destroyed because of Edward's incompetence.

Alphonse… His brother whose body had been ripped away from him because Edward believed he could play God. Though he had known the risks that would be associated with Edward joining the military, he never could have predicted what would happen to his commanding officers. But still… He was trapped there with one of the monsters that had taken one of them, forced to become one of their pawns as both a hostage and a sacrifice.

And then there was Winry, who had been a civilian that had been taken because she had been associated with them. She who had not done anything but support them in their journey; who had made friends with and had been friendly with the Colonel and Lieutenant. She of any of them shouldn't have even been involved, and should have been left alone to live her life as innocently as possible. But instead she was trapped along with Alphonse with one of the Homunculi. Trapped alongside a creature she could be taught to understand, but not fully comprehend until she saw it for what it was.

All of them flashed through his mind. All of the faces of the people he had failed to secure from the moment he had gained his state licensure. Each and every one of them were in the predicaments they were in because he had decided to play God and try to bring his mother back to life. He was the reason that both Hughes and Vato Falman were dead. He was the reason Mustang and Hawkeye had become prisoners in their own bodies. The reason why Mustang's men were sent to every corner of the country and separated from each other.

He was the reason his brother was in the body he has confined to, and the reason why Winry was a hostage.

Their faces and their voices were in the forefront of his mind, mocking his ineptitude. Edward could hear them calling his name over and over again, condemning him to his own internal prison. And of the voices, hers rang the loudest. He could hear Winry yelling his name, begging for him to return to his senses.

 _Edward…_

 _Edward!_

 _Ed!_

A second, more visceral pain tore through his shoulder and he stumbled back, watching the glint of blade that had torn through his jacket finish its stroke.

* * *

Izumi shouldn't have been too surprised when sleep hadn't found her. After all, it had been difficult, if not impossible, to sleep through the night since she and the others had arrived in the north. Every night had been spent lying in the makeshift coat constructed for her worrying about the well-being of the two boys she had grown to consider sons. Though close to the former, she was unable to see him, and far from the latter, she was unable to call. All she had to rely on was the fickle connection between the girl Madame Christmas had sent north to gather information for them and Officer Falman, something that she once again could not control.

Her worry only intensified when Falman missed one call, and then built on itself when he missed his most recent. From what she had heard, it was somewhat of a rarity from the man who supposedly remembered everything to forget something so critical to their mission. So when she heard two voices while she laid awake on her cot, her response was swift. Without regard for the others that had been asleep in the small shelter they had been provided, she hurriedly threw her door open and stormed hut's kitchen to find Dr. Marcoh thank and then close the door on the person whom he had been speaking with.

Seemingly not surprised by her presence, Marcoh gave her a nod of acknowledgement before he latched the door behind him.

"What's going on," she muttered, leering past him and toward the window to try and catch a glance of the person he had been speaking to. But when she didn't see them, she focused her attention on the rather disheveled old doctor.

He sighed dispassionately and raked his fingers through his salt-and-pepper hair. "Something I'm trying to wrap my head around," he admitted, taking a few steps away from the door to sag into the chair closest to him.

"Maybe I can help," she offered as she stepped away from the doorframe and into the kitchen. She slid into the chair at the table across from him and folded her arms over her chest, watching him. It seemed that the words had somehow escaped him and she found herself growing increasingly frustrated as he worked to piece together what he was going to tell her. When a few moments passed and he still hadn't produced something, she snapped, "The sooner we discuss it, the faster we can get it resolved."

The doctor flinched. On any other day Izumi would have recalled and apologized for her actions, but the possibility that it was news about Edward and his status left little room for her patience.

Marcoh lifted his hands and sat back defeatedly in his chair. "Fort Briggs is under attack," he answered with a heavy sigh. "The people here have been ordered to evacuate if Drachman forces manage to break through."

His reveal had been worse than anything Izumi could have imagined, essentially telling her that Edward was caught in the middle of a warzone. He had continued with his thought after his confession, but by that point she was no longer listening. She got up from her seat and made her way over to the door, stepping into her boots. By the time she had grabbed her coat off the coatrack, Marcoh was on his feet and had a hand on her shoulder. She shrugged it off and continued to work with the zipper of her jacket, only stopping when he forced her to turn around to face him.

He locked the firm grip he hand on her shoulders and searched her expression for an explanation of her rather abrupt action. She remained as unflappable as she had been before as she met his concerned gaze. He exhaled through his nose and shook his head, seeing the plan she had begun to compose fresh in her eyes. "Mrs. Curtis," he began. "We need to think this through. We can't just go gallivanting around Briggs with no clear plan."

She stomped the heel of her boot against the floor and slipped it the rest of the way onto her foot. "We don't have time to discuss the matter here. The longer we stand around and discuss the matter, the more likely it is Edward or Officer Falman will be caught in the crossfire." Again, she shrugged his hands off her and began to fiddle with her other boot.

"Even so, the magnitude was not discussed with me," he said. "For all we know it could be a skirmish that will be resolved within a matter of hours."

She slipped her foot into her other boot and tightened the straps. "And if it isn't," she countered. "Then we risk losing everything because we refused to act. You may do what you like, Dr. Marcoh, but nothing you say will change my mind. I'm going regardless of what you say."

Marcoh raised his hands and shook his head defensively. "It is not my intention to sway you, Mrs. Curtis. I only ask that we consider all options."

"I'm well-aware of that," she answered as she slid her parka on. When she adjusted it, and had zipped it up, she continued, "Edward is my primary objective. A child, no matter how talented, should not be anywhere near warzone, nor should he partake in such a battle."

"I agree, but we need to think through this very carefully. The news has only just come to me and—"

"I've already thought it through," came her hasty reply. "We use the tunnel to reach Briggs and enter through that avenue. From that point it will just be a matter of locating Officer Falman and Edward, and securing them."

By that point Marcoh had thrown his jacket on over his clothes as well and was preparing himself to slip his boots on to follow after her. "But what about Briggs forces? What's stopping them from assuming that we are the enemy?"

Admittedly she hadn't thought about that possible scenario. Her style had always been to avoid detection and get the job done. But with the possible chaos that was unfolding at the fort, it would be difficult to get a word out without being shot on sight. She sighed. "I suppose that will be where you come in," she said. "Hopefully someone will recognize a military doctor when they see one."

The corner of his lip twitched. "More like a disgraced army doctor."

She made a move to respond, but something moving out of the corner of her eye caught her attention. The two of them turned at the same moment to find Scar standing in the doorway, already clad in boots and his winter jacket. He stepped silently into the kitchen and folded his arms over his chest without a word, and their ragtag tag of two became three.

Turning away from them, Izumi placed a hand on the doorknob and said, "I don't know what may come of this, but what I will say is that our primary objective is to find and rescue Edward and Officer Falman. But there is one more thing we need to keep in the back of our minds," she continued, tightening her grip on the door handle. "If we should succeed and thn come face-to-face with that monster, I ask that you not hesitate to take it down. Whether or not Edward agrees."

* * *

" _We interrupt this broadcast to bring you this crucial news bulletin._

 _This is the secretary of your Fuhrer-elect speaking._

 _Fort Briggs of the North is currently under attack by Drachman ground forces._

 _This attack has engaged the entirety of Fort Briggs military forces._

 _The attack began at 6:21 a.m. and is currently underway._

 _Details will be released as they come."_

* * *

Lust hummed contently as she continued to swing her leg from the position on the edge of the Fuhrer's desk she had seated herself on. He had done well for his first broadcast as the Fuhrer-elect, playing right into the narrative they had hoped to create with the Drachman invasion. In fact, it had almost been too simple, as though he had been well-aware of the attack and had rehearsed it days before the actual announcement was to be made. But, of course, that was not meant to be. Grumman had been just as stubborn as he had been the moment she had met him, and had likely been left speechless upon hearing news of the attack. She would address it with him later, however. After all, he was terribly busy…

A tap on the door drew her attention away from her thoughts and she slid off the desk as it opened. The soldier that had ducked in dipped his head apologetically.

"Am I needed," she asked, lifting a brow.

He stepped inside and shook his head. "Fuhrer-elect Grumman is currently moving from the radio station back to Central Command, Lieutenant. We won't be needing you until that time."

"I see." She picked up a stack of papers she had set on the desk prior and straightened them out. "Then is there a reason for this interruption then?"

"Yes, sir," he answered with a crisp salute. "Second Lieutenant Rebecca Catalina has just arrived from the train station and is currently waiting outside."

Lust nodded. "Very good. Please send her in."

He dropped his salute and nodded, and then disappeared behind the door. She heard a few words being exchanged between a second party and waited. Then, after a few moments the familiar face of Rebecca Catalina appeared as she timidly stepped into the room. The door closed behind her and she jumped.

Lust set the papers down and leaned back against the desk, eyeing the newcomer with anticipation. Catalina made no move to address her, however; opting to remain standing as close to the door as she possibly could. Trying to ignore the annoyance that had begun to bubble within her from showing outwardly, she lifted a hand and beckoned Catalina toward her. "You're welcome to come in, Rebecca. Nothing here will harm you."

Rebecca's brows wrinkled and her expression shifted from fear to one of disdain. "Is that all you have to say?"

Lust's lip twitched, fighting the urge to fire back at Rebecca's bodacious attempt with her own spitfire response. Instead she shook her head and headed toward the tea shelf that she had restocked with Grumman's favorites. She turned her back to her and rummaged through the tea bags she had put on display. "Do you want anything to drink while we discuss your new duties," she called. "I have chamomile, Earl grey—"

"Why did you make me come here?!"

A smirk found its way to her lips and she looked over her shoulder to find Rebecca standing in the center of the room, hands curled into fists at her side. She set down the tea packet she had selected for herself and turned around to face her. With a small shrug, she said, "You're one of the most competent snipers in the military, Rebecca. It would be foolish not to utilize you and your skills for the late Fuhrer Bradley's funeral and Fuhrer Grumman's inauguration." Rebecca's cheeks flushed with anger and Lust couldn't help but add to it with a slight tilt of her head.

"I know my rank," she snarled. "I don't even fall in the top thirty. You brought me here for a reason and I want to know why."

The smile slipped from Lust's face. Clearly Catalina wasn't going to entertain her like she thought she would. She had hoped she would at least enthrall her for a short time, but it was clear by her reaction that she wanted a confrontation.

So… if that's what she wanted, then that is what she would get.

But just as she was about to answer, the door to the office flew open and in the doorway stood Major General Olivier Mira Armstrong. She walked into the room with purpose and slammed the door behind her, much to the protests of the soldiers that had been stationed outside. Her eyes swept over the room and the two of them, ultimately landing on Lust.

She steeled her expression as Armstrong's eyes narrowed. Wrath had warned her about the General and her' bold' tendencies. Judging by her entrance, she certainly wouldn't disappoint. Maybe she would be the one that would entertain…

Armstrong's hand traveled down to the saber that hung on her waist and she grasped its hilt. "Are you behind what's happening up at my precious fort," she snarled as she bared her teeth.

Her attention completely off the second Lieutenant that stood between them, Lust innocently stated, "I don't know what you mean, General. I've been here the entire morning preparing for the Fuhrer-elect's day."

"You know _exactly_ what I mean," Armstrong snapped. "You and that monster disguised as Mustang have made your moves a little too close to this attack to make it a coincidence."

"And if it isn't just a coincidence, what will you do about it," Lust challenged.

Armstrong scoffed. "I already know there isn't anything I can do. I can bitch and moan all I want, but none of you will go to their aid like I request. Whatever you're planning is similar to what happened all over the country years ago, starting with the most recent event: Ishval." Though she had tried to hide her surprise, some semblance of it must have crossed her face because Armstrong gave her a tight-lipped smile before continuing. "You and the rest of the top seed are looking to kill as many people as possible, right?"

The revelation was another surprise to Lust. It was curious enough that she had connected Ishval to other past events and to the battle at Fort Briggs, but it was even more so that she had determined the purpose in doing so. Although… she doubted Armstrong had figured it out on her own. After all, the Fullmetal Alchemist had been in her presence for a short while. She wouldn't be surprised if he had somehow figured out a piece of their plan.

"You're oddly perceptive for someone who isn't an alchemist," she noted.

"When you had to endure living with one for a major fraction of your life, you get used to it," Armstrong deadpanned.

Lust lifted the tea she had crafted to her lips, lightly blowing a huff of air over the steam that was rising from it. She had nearly forgotten that the General and Major Armstrong were related. A rather laughable factoid she had picked from Hawkeye's brain. Perhaps she had underestimated her. It was one thing to be told what their plan could be, but an entirely different case if she understood what was happening.

"You didn't answer my question," the General said.

She lowered the tea cup and set it down behind her. "Why should I," she countered, crossing her arms over her chest. "You seem to have all the answers, don't you, General?"

"Not quite. There are still a few matters that need to be discussed." Armstrong's eyes flickered over to Rebecca and looked her up and down. "You," she barked, "Are you involved in all of this as well?"

"Unfortunately not in the way that I would hope," Lust answered. "Lieutenant Catalina has been rather uncooperative."

Rebecca took a step back and balled her hands into fists. "Nothing you do will make me cooperate with the likes of _you_."

Lust clicked her tongue and turned her attention away from her newest hostage to focus on Armstrong again. "She's part of a resistance to our efforts. One that involves Mustang's men, the Elrics, and a few others. Though, I'm sure you're quite aware of that."

"I'm aware," Armstrong agreed. "But that doesn't mean I've thrown my towel in with them. My one and only concern is the wellbeing of _my_ men and _my_ fort."

Lust sighed. Like Catalina, it seemed she wasn't willing to play either. "If you want to discuss the details we have in regards to the situation up at Briggs, I suggest you find someone who is corresponding with an informant up there. Lieutenant Catalina and I have an appointment to discuss her role as a guard for the late Fuhrer's funeral."

General Armstrong's eyes drifted between the two, catching the subtle tinge of fear in Catalina's eyes. She provided them with a mild shrug and shifted her weight from one hip to the other, and folded her arms over her chest. "I can wait to discuss it with you," she answered. "I have time."

Lust's lips drew back to reveal her teeth. The General's arrival hadn't been something she had accounted for. It would be difficult addressing Catalina with… Then a thought crossed her mind and she laughed softly to herself. Perhaps the General's presence would prove beneficial. Changing her tune, she shrugged her shoulders nonchalantly and said, "That is your choice then."

Out of the corner of her eye she saw Catalina relax, though she knew it wouldn't be for too long. Turning her focus toward her once again, Lust said, "As I was saying before, you have proved time and time again to be a competent and hardworking soldier. You've been selected for this guard because I have the utmost faith in your abilities."

Rebecca's eyes narrowed. "Is that something you took directly from Riza? Because that sounds a lot like something she said once before."

"Maybe it is, and maybe it isn't," was her reply. "Regardless of that, I have seen what you're capable of and what you are not." The proclamation drained the blood from Rebecca's cheeks and she wordlessly lifted a hand to grip at her throat. Having once again caught her where she needed her, she added, "I was looking forward to how things would have carried out if the Lieutenant hadn't interfered, because I have a feeling that you would have given in to your desire to survive. Even if that meant pulling the trigger when your best friend was on the receiving end of your weapon."

"I…" Rebecca began, slowly tapering off. She remembered that day all too clearly. Remembered how reluctant she had been to pull the trigger. Riza had done it for her by shooting herself in the knee so that Rebecca could get away. Would it all have played out differently if Riza hadn't shown up? Or would she have abandoned her sense of survival to preserve the image of her best friend?

"She thinks about it often, you know," Lust continued. "About that day when you had confronted me. She'll even think about the days of old when you were in the academy together, and every moment in between." Her lips parted into a smile as the Lieutenant's soul rolled uncomfortably against her pull. "She misses you." The disclosure was enough to fracture Catalina's resolve. Her face gave way to a variety of… human emotions that range from grief to desire, and nearly everything in between. Knowing she had caught her in the intricate web she had spun, Lust raised a hand and beckoned her toward her. "Would you like to speak to her? No strings attached."

* * *

Lust nudged the Lieutenant and waited. After a few moments had ticked by and the limp form of her host did not stir, she clicked her tongue and shook her head with disapproval.

"I'm disappointed, Lieutenant. You don't seem too keen on speaking to your best friend, even when I'm giving you the opportunity to." She paused and listened, hoping Rebecca's mention would ignite something within her host. But once again she was not roused, remaining on her knees with her head bowed forward.

Now feeling more agitated than impish, Lust grabbed hold of her wrist and yanked her to her feet. Riza swayed uneasily on her feet for a few seconds, and then her legs buckled beneath her. Before she fell, Lust grabbed her arms to try and steady her. Her head bobbed forward and her body wavered for a few moments more before she finally found her foundation.

Keeping one hand tightly gripping the Lieutenant's bicep, Lust carefully guided her other up to tip her host's chin back. Her eye was immediately drawn to the pools of black that concealed the whites and brown irises of her eyes. She blinked, startled by the movement of her head, and for a moment the inky blackness receded. But then her dazed complacency returned and along with it the darkness that clouded her eyes.

"What happened to you, Lieutenant," Lust tutted and shook her head. "You were so spirited just a few days ago. But now your resolve seems to have vanished along with your desire to have your body returned to you. And that simply won't do." Riza's knees began to tremble and Lust had to abandon supporting her head to grab hold of her biceps again. Realizing that she would be getting nowhere if she continued as she was, Lust lowered the Lieutenant back down to her knees.

"Now," she began again, lifting the Lieutenant's chin with her finger. "Let me say this again, Lieutenant: Rebecca is here and I think that it's in your best interest to speak to her, wouldn't you agree?"

This time her brows knitted together and her lips silently moved to form Rebecca's name. She repeated it over and over until the darkness once again retreated and remained so for longer than it previously had. Rebecca's name became her mantra, rolling off her tongue a few more times until her sentience returned and her clouded eyes became clear once more. She lifted her hands and grabbed Lust's arms for support, slowly raising her eyes to peer into hers and uttered, "Please… No…"

* * *

Like the flick of a switch, Riza's legs buckled beneath her and she crumbled to the ground, hiding her face in her hands. "Please…. Please no…"

Rebecca took a step forward but the General lifted an arm to block her while she pulled a gun from her holster. "Don't," she ordered. "It's tricking you into believing what it wants."

Rebecca's eyes darted over to Riza, watching as she rocked back onto her heels. Worry gripped her far worse than the fear she had felt when they had encountered one another before, urging her toward her best friend. She could vaguely hear but not make out the words that continued to flow from Riza's mouth until she heard her utter her name. And everything she had felt before, the fear and anger and resolution vanished and she pushed through General Armstrong's feeble barrier.

"Catalina, _stay back_!"

But by the time the General's words had reached her ears, Rebecca was already on her knees in front of her best friend. "Riza. Riza can you hear me?" Riza's head teetered forward and back, and she mumbled something under her breath that was too quiet for Rebecca to catch. Without a second thought, Rebecca reached up to cup Riza's face in her hands, and tipped it back. "Say that again, Ri; what—" She gasped when she was met by a glassy, distant stare.

She readjusted her hold on Riza's face and tried to catch her eye, but it was as though she were staring right through her. Her lips were moving with an almost mechanical effort, but were not producing any audible sound. Her alarm turning to panic, Rebecca moved her hands to her shoulders and gave her a shake, calling her name again to snap her out of her trance. "Riza, it's me. It's Rebecca. I need you to answer me, _please_!"

Riza's lips stopped moving and her eyes seemed to momentarily focus themselves on Rebecca's face, growing slightly wider than they already were. But then, whatever little recognition she had vanished, and her gaze once again grew unfocused and cold, once again slipping into a stupor.

A hand gripped Rebecca's shoulder and she swatted it off, raising her hands to Riza's face again in another effort to bring her back. "Riza, please!" Her voice cracked and the emotion she had been holding back in favor of hindering the Homunculus's grip on her pushed its way to the surface. The tears she had been so desperate to hide began to spill over and down her cheeks as she repeated her friend's name over and over, louder and louder each time. When she finally screamed Riza's name, she responded, drawing back with a gasp as eyes once dim seemed to become clear.

Riza's eyes widened and she stared at Rebecca, eyes slowly scanning over her as though she were seeing it for the first time. And then she jerked away. Rebecca grabbed her wrists and pulled her back down, keeping Riza seated in front of her. Something inside of her sparked to life and, despite the circumstances, she finally felt a shred of hope. She was looking into Riza's eyes. She was still there and still fighting and—

"N-no."

Rebecca's brows knitted together and she leaned in closer. "Riza, please, let me—"

"No!" With one massive pull, Riza twisted her arms and thrashed against Rebecca's hold, trying with all her strength to free herself from her best friend's grip. Her reaction had been so sudden that Rebecca nearly lost her grip. She repeated the word, each time saying it louder and louder until it escalated to a yell.

Rebecca tightened her grip on her best friend, clinging to her as though her life depended on it. She needed to show her that she was there and that she would help. That she would fight the monster as long as Riza would.

"She'll kill you," Riza gasped. "She'll kill you. She'll kill you!" She fought harder against Rebecca's grip, managing to yank on of her wrists out of Rebecca's hand. "She'll kill you!"

"Don't let her then. Fight her, Riza," she ordered above her friend's mantra. "Fight her and win! You can do this, you can—"

"I _can't_! She'll… She'll…" The tension left her hands and Riza's head slowly lolled forward. "She'll… Help... _Help me_ …"

Before Riza's words had even processed in Rebecca's head, a shooting pain tore through her left side, forcing the breath from her lungs. She tore her eyes away from the horrified expression on Riza's face and dropped her head, watching as the bit of jacket that was torn by the blades had turned a deep red. Almost as quickly as they had ripped through her, the claws retracted. The small motion was enough for Rebecca to teeter back on her heels, still too shocked to fully comprehend what had happened.

She lifted her eyes again in the hopes that Riza would still be there to give her _something_ that would help her better understand. But before she could catch her eye, Riza's head snapped back and she fell. A loud noise followed almost immediately after. Though muffled by the pounding of her heart in her ears, her mind seemed to immediately turn to registering it as the sound of a weapon discharging. Instinct took over and she fell back onto her hands.

The action exacerbated the wound on her side and she reached around her abdomen to press her hand against it. Then she looked up to find Riza again, and screamed.

Riza was lying motionless on her back, arms outstretched on either side of her. And there was blood… So much blood. All of it pooling around her as it flowed from the wound on her forehead and down her face and cheeks to soak into the carpet on the floor. Her eyes were half-lidded and her expression frozen in a state of shock.

Rebecca pushed herself back and covered her mouth with her other hand, muffling the scream that followed her realization. She felt her throat constricting, and it suddenly felt like she couldn't breathe. Another shriek escaped her and she jumped when General Armstrong stopped beside her and chocked her weapon, training it on the unmoving form of her best friend. Before her finger found the trigger, Rebecca pushed herself onto her knees and grabbed the General's arm, throwing off her line of sight.

Armstrong jerked away from her and hissed, "You fool! It was playing you the entire time—" The sound of cracks splitting the air silenced her and they turned, watching as bursts of alchemic sparks illuminated the wound the bullet had left.

The Homunculus sat up and covered a deviant smile and face with her hand. A chuckle bubbled in the back of her throat, quickly evolving to a laugh that teetered on the edge of madness. Rebecca could only sit back and watch as the reanimated body of her best friend cackled with delight at her apparent horror.

After a few additional snickers, she suppressed her laugh long enough to reach up and wipe the blood off her forehead and gave them a malicious grin. "Do you not understand what it means for me to be immortal? Your bullets and blades are pathetically useless, though I admire your endeavor."

Seemingly unperturbed by her declaration, Armstrong scoffed. "I already knew that much. Your Philosopher's Stone is supposedly fueled by the thousands of souls that are trapped within it, meaning that every blow you receive will deplete your power."

Lust chuckled and the corners of her lips lifted with amusement. "So you intend to shoot and cut me until there's nothing left?"

"That would be idiotic," the General replied. "My action is simply a reminder to you that a bigger battle is coming. One where you and the rest of those wretched traitors fall."

She pushed herself onto her knees, and then to her feet, steadying herself against the Fuhrer's desk as she wiped the remaining blood from her face with the back of her hand. "If that is what you believe, then you should be warned that you will risk killing Lieutenant Hawkeye and Colonel Mustang… if they're still around should the unlikely day come."

"I'm well-aware and have accepted that they will die along with you," Armstrong noted. "It'll be bittersweet losing a competent soldier like Hawkeye, but I'm confident they wouldn't have it any other way."

The Homunculus's smile widened before it turned its attention to Rebecca, who was still crumbled up on the floor with her hand pressed against her side. Its piercing gaze found hers, and her heart constricted. It was as if it were inside her head, rummaging through the thoughts and questions that had poured into her mind until it seized one that had sprung forth. It cocked its head and said, "It seems you have something to say, Rebecca. Or are you looking for an excuse to go get bandaged up?"

She dug her fingers into the wound and twisted her shirt around it. It wasn't deep enough to warrant immediate attention. Not when there were more pressing matters to address. Rebecca swallowed the lump in her throat when she focused her eyes on it, trying to chase away the images of what she had witnessed just moments before, reminding herself that Riza's body was virtually immortal. She was fine… In a relative sense. Except for the matter that was now pressing on her mind. The words Lust had inadvertently taunted her with. "I'm fine…" she whispered, her voice surprisingly weak. "But I… I need to know. What did you mean about them? About whether they would be around or not?"

The corner of the Homunculus's lift curved upward and it nodded toward General Armstrong. "She's already given you the answer."

Rebecca whirled around as Armstrong crossed her arms. "This is news to me," she quipped. "I don't know anything about the Philosopher's Stone."

"Except that it's comprised of thousands of souls," Lust reiterated. "Souls that have been amassed over hundreds of years; all of them losing themselves over time. So I wonder," she mused, "After seeing the Lieutenant and her mentality, how long will it be before she no longer recognizes you or herself."

As Rebecca tried to comprehend what her words meant, the door to the officer burst open and several soldiers rushed in with their guns drawn. "We heard a gunshot. Is everyone okay in here?"

Lust took a casual step over the puddle of blood that had been her own and motioned to General Armstrong. "There's nothing to worry about here. The General's weapon misfired and ricochet. You might want to check Lieutenant Catalina. I believe she may have been hit."

The soldiers lowered their weapons and the closest jogged over to Rebecca and fell to his knees beside her. When he tried to assess her wound, she shook her head and said, "It's fine. It barely grazed me."

"Really?" Rebecca winced and reluctantly looked up at the Homunculus. "Because it seems like it's bleeding an awful lot for something that's just a flesh wound. I think you should go get it checked out before we begin to discuss your role here. And General," she added, addressing Armstrong. "You're welcome to meet with General Johnson if you have any further questions about what is unfolding up at Briggs."

The General snarled as one of the soldiers relieved her of her weapon, and then turned her attention back to Lust. "This isn't over, Lieutenant. I still have a bone to pick with you."

Lust gave her a half-hearted salute and added, "Then I look forward to hearing from you another time, General."

The soldier who had been at her flank slowly lifted Rebecca to her feet and acted as a crutch as she steadied herself. Keeping her hand pressed to the wound, she exchanged glances with the Homunculus one final time before she was escorted toward the door. But when their eyes met, she wasn't looking at Lust; she was looking for Riza, because in those final moments she had seemed to deteriorate, following along with what the Homunculus revealed. She wanted to know - needed to know- if that confirmed what it had said to be true. And if so, how much longer did she have before she no longer knew who she was?

* * *

It wouldn't be long until they would be beneath the fort. Izumi would admit that she hadn't the slightest clue what they would do to find Edward once they got there. She hadn't the time to surmise a well-thought plan, though she had tried. The blasts that rocked the tunnel and dropped loose gravel from the bedrock above their heads did little to put her at ease. The magnitude of the attack was far greater than she had imagined, and she found that she couldn't even begin to think what Edward could be doing at that moment. Though she hoped the General's men would be protecting and preventing him from entering the fray, there was still that shred of doubt that told her otherwise: that the monster who had once been his 'commanding officer' had another plan in store for him.

Her stomach twisted at the idea that had manifested itself in her thoughts after they had learned of Briggs's situation. It seemed too convenient. The appointment of their former Fuhrer and the appointment of one who, coincidentally, was their contact. That situation alone was enough to set off alarm bells in her mind. And now the added attack on Briggs destroyed what little faith she had in the military's higher brass.

She knew the moment she stepped foot in the fort that she would be considered a rogue citizen, and maybe that was for the best. After all, she was traveling with a doctor who had defected from the military, and the Ishvalan man who had killed countless Amestrian soldiers and State Alchemists. A quick glance over her shoulder confirmed that they had kept their pace behind her, walking just within the boundary of the light her lantern was emitting. If she took a moment longer to think about it, she would almost find it ironic how they had all come together. But she refrained, instead turning her attention to the darkness that stretched on before them.

Another blast shook the walls of the tunnel and they stopped for a moment to let it pass. But rather than continue once the aftershock had subsided, Izumi remained firmly planted where she had paused. Something about that blast was… off. Like she had heard something else along with it. She held her breath and extended the lantern out at arm's length, and strained to listen. A few moments later, she heard it again.

"Mrs. Curtis, what is—"

"Shh," she hissed as she held out her other arm to prevent Marcoh and Scar from advancing. When they paused behind her, she took another step forward and shined the light on the tunnel's wall that seemed particularly dark. Another stride shed enough light on it for her to see inside the crevice she had found, and she nearly gasped.

What she had expected to find when she investigated the noise, she did not know. But what she didn't expect was to find anyone else down there with them. The individual in question was huddled as far back into the recess as possible. Discarded wrappers and burned up matches were scattered around his feet and the military jacket he wore was crumbled and dirty. Spots of dirt and blood coated his face, making him nearly unrecognizable from the pictures she had seen of him before, if not for the fact that she recognized one key feature about him she had remembered: the grey and white hair she had picked up on when examining pictures of Colonel Mustang's team.

He stared at them just as critically as they did to him, likely making his own observations about the people he had likely not expected to be down there with him. While he was doing so, questions that desperately needed answers flooded Izumi's mind, and she found herself at a loss for how to begin addressing them. How did he get there? Why was he there? Where was Edward and what was happening—

Officer Falman slowly hobbled to his feet and lifted a hand, parched lips spread as he tried to find the words he needed to address them. Realizing that his husbandry required their immediate attention before she they even began to ask him anything else. As she rushed toward the wayward man, she called over her shoulder for Dr. Marcoh's assistance. But just as she was within arm's reach of him, his eyes grew wide and he dove toward the lamp in her hand. " _Turn off the light_!"

Izumi flinched away from the frantic man, pulling her lamp just out of his reach. He made a move to lunch again but refrained, instead opting to stumble back into the recess he had been concealed in. "Officer Falman," she said slowly. "We're going to get you out of here. We don't leave you alone in the dark anymore-"

He shook his head frantically and extended his hand. "You don't understand! It's attracted to the light. It'll—" A strangled gasp interrupted him and his plea became more urgent. "Please, come into here. It's coming!"

Izumi's brows knitted together. It was coming? What exactly was— Then she heard it. The noise had been faint at first, something that they had all disregarded as nothing more than the stones resettling themselves following every blast. But now it seemed that the noise had shifted from a quiet drone to what she would argue to be a sound similar to an approaching freight train. She spun around and lifted her lantern toward the darkness, taking a cautious step toward it. Then something latched onto and yanked her back into the hole Falman had taken refuge in in the moments where the sound had become deafening.

Izumi reacted to her surprise by driving an elbow into Falman's side, eliciting a pained yelp from the deranged man. She spun around and stumbled a few steps back, holding the lantern up to separate them. But instead of receiving a reaction or even an apology from him, she saw that Marcoh, Scar, and he all had their eyes fixated on the tunnel behind her. Instead of uttering one of many choice words she had in mind for Falman's action, she instead opted to follow their gaze over her shoulder, readying herself for whatever she had heard.

But nothing, _nothing_ , could prepare her for what she was seeing at that moment.

The tunnel itself had been consumed; overtaken by something she couldn't even begin to try and make sense of. It was simply… darkness. Blackness that bore mouths of jagged teeth and piercing red eyes that churned in waves over the opening, devouring their view of anything else.

Whatever _it_ was saw that it had her attention, and the corners of its many mouths curled up with sinister show of glee.

* * *

The pain came slower than Edward had imagined it would. It had started as a throb like that of a papercut, then slowly developed into a twinge that spread from his left shoulder to the right side of his chest. He stumbled away from the Homunculus and reached up to grab his shoulder. The cold steel of his automail fingers brushing against the exposed muscle stung, and he pulled it away with a hiss of pain.

"You'll notice I've been gracious, Fullmetal. I haven't severed enough of your muscle fibers to make the arm useless, just enough to keep you from using that pesky clap alchemy you have," it said with a triumphant grin.

He tried to move his arm out from his side and found that what the Homunculus said had been true. It felt as though weights had been shackled to his arm, making it feel ten times heavier than should. To use his clap alchemy, he would have to drop his automail arm, leaving himself open for another debilitating assault. But at that moment his ability to perform alchemy was far from being the most critical thing on his mind. Instead he found himself at a loss for words. It had ordered the killing of Officer Falman when he had done nothing expect get caught in the middle of the Homunculi's affairs… and his. It had used Mustang's voice and face to kill one of the men the Colonel had handpicked for his team.

Wrath had killed Falman, and Edward hadn't seen any sign of Mustang.

"Don't you feel anything, Mustang! Wrath ordered for Falman to be killed! Don't you care?!" Another assault from the Homunculus sent him stumbling back. He faltered and lifted his automail arm again, barely able to stop the blow from connecting with his shoulder. The Homunculus slammed its blade against his and pushed to throw Edward off balance. He stumbled back a few steps and recovered, holding his ground. Its Ouroboros eye was boring into him, and he had to fight every urge to look away from it in favor of continuing to address the Colonel. "I want you to answer me, you _bastard_ ," he choked out.

"Still trying to appeal to the Colonel," it taunted. "Haven't you learned that neither he nor Lieutenant Hawkeye are coming back. We've taken their places now—"

"Idiot," Edward snapped, launching himself at Wrath. "I know you're in there, Mustang! Fight Wrath _and show yourself again_!"

It lifted its blade and blocked his blow with relative ease. Edward shifted his weight and then slammed the blade on his arm against its saber again. The opposing steel blades sparked upon impact and seconds later it ignited. The force of the blast was weaker than those that had previously been kindled. Using the temporarily blinding flames to his advantage, Edward lunged.

The Homunculus spun around and halted his attack without so much as a flinch.

Edward's lips curled back and he growled. With every blow his strength ebbed and the adrenaline his body relied on had begun to wane. He knew that it wouldn't be long until he was incapacitated by Wrath's wounds, though it wouldn't stop him from trying until he was. Mustang was still in there somewhere. He just needed to believe that he was still fighting.

"Mustang…" He gasped. "I know you're in there… Fight it. I know you can."

The Homunculus's expression darkened. "How many times have I told you, Elric. He's not—" Wrath suddenly stumbled back and doubled over, raising a hand to its endowed eye. "You! I won't let you interfere! Not now!"

There it was. The moment he had been waiting for. Without hesitation, Edward bounded forward and crossed blades with the debilitated Homunculus. "That's it! Keep fighting, Mustang!"

Wrath snarled, batting Edward's blade away to retreat a few steps back.

"You… _idiot_ ," Mustang hissed. "Get away _from me_."

Edward slammed his automail arm against Wrath's blade again and pushed, inching himself close enough that he could feel the puffs of breath it was exuding. He could feel its blade trembling against his: The Homunculus was succumbing to Mustang's fight for dominance. "Not a chance," he growled. "Not until you fight this and _win_."

Mustang's body stiffened and for the first-time Edward could look into his eyes and see him. But along with that recognition came something he hadn't expected. The eye that had moments before been taken over by the Ouroboros had become logged with blood; saturating the white of his eye and overflowing down his cheek.

"Get _back_ ," he hissed through grated teeth. "I can't… fight him off for _long_."

Edward's blade began to rattle, signaling him to retreat. He pushed back against Mustang's strength and leapt away, narrowly avoiding the saber's sharpened edge. His arm shot up and blocked another blow, once again locking them into another impasse.

"Then do it long enough for me to seal the wall!"

Mustang coughed and specks of blood escaped the recesses of his lips. Then the thoughts Edward had before flooded his mind. Was it the process of rejection he was seeing? The one that had killed the Fuhrer and passed on Wrath to its new host? The will to fight and continue to aggravate Mustang to bring him to the forefront of his mind no longer seemed the best plan and Edward immediately began to try and figure out another way he could stop the Homunculus long enough to save the men of Briggs. "Okay," he relented as the pressure against his arm's blade began to build. "I'll think of another way. You don't need to—"

In a second's time Edward found himself stumbling back and shielding himself from a barrage of blows. _One, two, three, four, five_ —

The tip of the blade tore through his cheek on the fifth stroke and he tumbled to the ground. The Homunculus – or was it Mustang at that moment – came to a halt and buried their face into their free hand and let out a deranged cry. Edward kicked his heels out and scraped across the floor to create some distance between them and, when he finally had achieved it, leapt to his feet and reeled around, making his way toward the wall.

Moments later he heard it again. The distinct sound of boots clapping against the concrete floor. Preparing himself for another confrontation, Edward spun around with his blade at the ready, once again clashing against the Homunculus's with what would be their final impasse.

Then the inevitable happened.

The saber that had encountered the steel blade on Edward's arm so many times before fractured and shattered, failing to divert the momentum from his spin. Steel found flesh, and then muscle, and then bone; tearing through all of them with relative ease until it ruptured through the other side of Mustang's chest.

The moments that followed seemed to last for hours as Edward stood paralyzed, the blood from the wound seeping down his arm and through every crack and crevice of the automail limb.

Mustang's head dipped forward and his body swayed uneasily, tipping forward until it caught against Edward's arm.

Edward's arm – his entire body – began to shake as the gravity of his action began to sink in. "You… Why didn't you move," he gasped, once again feeling Mustang's weight sink onto his arm.

A trembling hand slowly found its way to the automail arm that had pierced his heart and draped over it, fingers loosely wrapping themselves around it to find purchase. "F… forgive me," Mustang wheezed with great difficulty. "It was… the only way to… slow… it…" Sliding trembling fingers up the arm and to the point on his chest where it had penetrated it, he tapped a quivering finger once, twice, against it.

It was more than enough for Edward to understand. With every moment that passed, its heart was trying to repair itself. But the longer something impeded it from doing so, the more energy it used up, and the more it would be weakened. Weakened enough, even, that when he withdrew the blade Wrath's assault would be temporarily halted, giving him just enough time to seal the hole it had created.

He swallowed the lump that had formed in the back of his throat as he realized what it also meant. Mustang was once again telling him what he already fundamentally knew: That to defeat the Homunculi, their Stones would have to be burned up. And by doing so, it would likely mean…

As though he could read his thoughts, Mustang slowly lifted his head and mumbled, "I'm s… so sorry, Fullmetal… But this is… the only way."

"No…" The word left his mouth as a hoarse whisper, and Edward slowly shook his head. "No there… There has to be another way. _There has to be_!" It was what he had heard countless times before: that their lives would be taken as the price for defeating the Homunculi. An answer that he refused to accept.

"Please… go." Mustang's head bowed and he loosened his grip. "I can't… can't hold it off much longer."

With an embittered cry, Edward tore the blade from Mustang's chest and retreated a few steps back as the latter teetered uneasily on his feet. When he had reached across his body and gripped his jacket and steadied himself, Edward whispered, "What about Falman? What about Briggs? Your team?"

"F… Full—"

"Your aunt," Edward cried as he locked his knees, knowing he would otherwise collapse if he didn't. "Hawkeye?! Are you going to leave her alone as a prisoner in her own body?!"

Clouded eyes momentarily cleared and Edward could see the old Mustang peering through to him. The one who had told him to get back onto his feet.

The one who had told him to fight.

But then the clouds returned and the Mustang he knew withdrew into the doddering form in front of him. "E… nough," he commanded softly. "F… forget about us. We cannot be…-"

"Stop saying that! I won't let it end like this. I won't leave you behind—"

"Fullmetal, that… _That is an order_ …"

Already he could see the red alchemic sparks pooling in the wound as Wrath slowly began to take control again. He could see it in Mustang's eyes the fight for dominance as the Ouroboros flickered between its form and the obsidian iris it concealed. Edward knew that the time Mustang had given him was ending. He looked up again, one final time to catch Mustang's eye, if not to relay one last message to him before Wrath took control. Squaring his shoulders, he definitively declared, "I refuse."

As soon as he uttered those words, he found himself once again face-to-face with the Homunculus. It had moved so swiftly, so silently, that he hadn't the time to raise his arm in defense when Wrath drove the severed saber through him.


	17. Chapter 17

**A/N:** _Sorry this took so long to update! I'm going to try and write 'shorter' chapters so that I can hopefully update more frequently. I'll make this short and sweet, but in regards to the ending... I ask that you trust me. It is **not** for shock value and will all make sense next chapter!_

 _And per usual, please please please let me know if anyone seems OOC, things seem to be moving too fast, or something doesn't make sense. Thank you all so much for the favorites, follows, and reviews! They mean a lot!_

* * *

"You said it was from a stray bullet?"

Rebecca nodded and then winced when the infirmary nurse rubbed another pad of alcohol over her wound. The nurse muttered an apology and leaned closer, spreading apart the 'entry' wound with her thumbs to get a better look at it. Rebecca sucked in a breath and held it as the nurse manipulated and stretched and pulled at it. She knew by the way she was scrutinizing it that her skepticism that it was a bullet wound was building. It had been foolish of her to blindly follow the Homunculus's suggestion to check herself into infirmary when she could have gone and sought attention for it elsewhere. It certainly wasn't life-threatening by any means, only managing to catch the thin layer of connective tissues and fat on her side. She likely only needed a bandage and antibiotics.

At that moment, though, it had been the only thing she found she _could_ do. The suggestion to go, even though it was by the monster that had stolen her best friend's face, she complied. Her mind was still spinning, still trying to comprehend the state of her best friend's mind; trying to piece together the chain of events that led up to General Armstrong shooting her.

The sting of the antiseptic exacerbated the wound, and the image of the Homunculus flashed across her mind's eye. She clutched a hand to her side and doubled over as the fragmented images spun themselves together and reformed the moment Armstrong took matters into her own hands. Rebecca could still clearly see the light fading from Riza's eyes as her body began to die. See the blood that poured from the wound the bullet had inflicted. Watch as her best friend's body died a slow, agonizing death, only to be taken again by the creature that held her hostage.

 _Miss Catalina?_

She felt pressure against her shoulder and she looked up to see that the nurse's lips were moving asynchronously with the words she was hearing. At least, to her they weren't. It was difficult to discern whether it was because of the pounding of her heart in her ears, because her mind no longer could process what had happened, or both.

 _I'm going to get the doctor—_

Before the nurse could make a move toward the door, Rebecca's free hand shot out from her side and gripped the woman's wrist, surprising them both. The nurse's eyes widened, and before she demanded an explanation from Rebecca, she panted, "D-don't, please. I just…" Her grip on the nurse's arm loosened and she slowly drew her hand away. "I just need something to drink, please?" The nurse's befuddled expression grew more complex, and even more confused. Rebecca had always prided herself with the fact that she was able to almost effortlessly explain away her actions into whatever she needed to. Her attempt this time, however, had fallen flat. Or at least, that's what she believed.

She forced a smile and removed her hand from her tender side with the smallest of winces, and once again said, this time with a tinge more confidence, "I think I just need something to ice my side. I don't think the medications have kicked in yet."

She was met by a skeptical glare, and she knew that she wouldn't be able to shake the nurse's suspicions. Still, her smile remained and she put on a brave face, watching as the nurse rose to her feet and set the bloodied alcohol pads on a nearby table. The woman reached up and pressed the back of her hand against Rebecca's forehead, brows knitting together as she searched for a fever that likely wasn't there. After a few moments passed, the heat she had been looking for absent clearly absent, she pulled away and frowned.

"I'll grab one for you on my way back in," the nurse assured her as she wiped her hands off on a towel. "For now, please sit back and wait for the doctor. He should be with you in a few moments."

Rebecca gave her a taut nod and silently watched as the nurse exited the room and closed the door behind her. She waited until her footsteps faded before she collapsed onto the cot she had been seated on and draped her arms over her eyes. Before she would allow herself to revisit the images that had played through her mind before, Rebecca took a deep breath and exhaled. She hoped that the few moments of solace the nurse had unknowingly left her gave her time to recollect herself, because the sooner she convinced them that she was okay, the sooner she could leave and deal with her emotions on her own time.

Another strangled gulp of air filled her lungs, and she fought to keep the sob that sat in her throat from spilling out.

Who was she trying to fool anyways? She knew deep down that it was impossible; that the Homunculus that had taken complete control of her best friend's body had beaten them. Even that small glimpse she had seen of Riza was barely a fragment of who she had been. It was reasonable enough to believe that the Homunculus's presence was eating away at her: the glassy eyes she bore and the manic mantra she had repeated over and over again was not the Riza Hawkeye she had known.

A third breath gnawed and reminded her of the wound at her side and she freed one of her arms so that she could press her hand against it. She jumped and the breath caught in her chest when the door to the room opened. But instead of the doctor, or the monster, she had been expecting to see, she found herself strangely relieved, and yet somewhat terrified, when General Armstrong stepped into the room. The General's glance briefly skimmed past Rebecca and around the room before they finally found their way over to her again.

"You had every opportunity to reveal what really happened to them. Or at least expose _it_ for what it is," General Armstrong stated as she folded her arms over her chest and leaned back against the wall beside Rebecca. "So why didn't you?"

Rebecca's grip on the cot's edge tightened and she turned her eyes away from the General, focusing them on a small mark on the wall in the corner furthest from her. She already knew what the hardened General would say to her. Survival of the fittest was the mantra up at Briggs, and it was either kill or be killed. The fact of the matter was that she had failed to overcome her emotions and focus on the task at hand, which had been to kill the enemy. She had let her guard down and wore her emotions on her sleeve… and the Homunculus honed in on that and played her like a fiddle.

It wouldn't matter that Riza had made an appearance because, though they had not directly communicated, their objectives were clearly the same: to kill the Homunculi. Including the ones who inhabited the bodies of two of the most important people in Rebecca's life. That meant, of course, killing both Riza and Colonel Mustang.

The thought of losing sight of that objective because she had given in to her emotions was unacceptable for the rational General. She could feel the lack of empathy permeating the air that sat otherwise stagnant between them.

With nothing left as an excuse in her mind, and with nothing else she could say, she stuck to her honest answer and quietly replied, "I don't know…"

Out of the corner of her eye she could see that the General's face had grown sour. She pressed her lips together and sat rigidly as Armstrong countered, "That isn't an answer, Catalina."

The resentment she felt both for herself and the General nearly made her bit back with a witty remark. Any other day she would have said that it was an answer, just not the answer that was being sought. Instead she kept quiet, keeping her quiet focus on the corner of the room furthest from the General. After a few moments of complete silence dragged on, the General scoffed and Rebecca flinched. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw General Armstrong turn away and make her way toward the door.

Rebecca turned her head as the General placed her hand on the doorknob. Just as she was about to open her mouth to say something –anything- to get the General to stay for a moment more, her subconscious request was answered.

"You fooled me in the past," the General retorted. "I never thought you to be someone without a spine."

Rebecca winced. If it were anyone else or any other time, her response would have been equally calloused. But at that moment, those words stung, though she knew how the General had come to that conclusion.

Still, she swallowed back the disdain she felt for them, and herself, and managed to utter, "You don't understand—"

She sucked in a deep breath when the General whirled around, her eyes blazing. Her lips formed a deep scowl and her expression turned from passive to fury. "'Don't understand,'" she echoed back bitterly. "Don't understand what, Catalina?"

Rebecca pressed her lips together and she curled her fingers tighter around the edge of the table, even though they had already grown numb.

The General scoffed. "Am I failing to understand what it means for these monsters to continue their existence? Or is there something I don't know about them that I should? Because it seems to me, Catalina, that by keeping them alive is endangering more lives than are being saved."

The pit in Rebecca's stomach grew, and the nauseating feeling she felt earlier returned full force. She dug her fingers into her side, hoping the stimulation it would cause the wound would be enough to distract her away from the utter sickness she felt. That feeling was returning… that feeling of loneliness.

It had been there when she had left Jean. When she had confronted Lust alone. When she had seen the state of mind Riza had been in. Where it felt as though no one was there. Where Jean was hundreds of miles away literally, and her best friend was figuratively. For a moment, just a single moment, when the General had appeared, she had believed herself to have found an ally. But now she could feel that awareness slipping away.

"You need to realize that you won't be able to save every life," the General continued, her voice softer than it had been moments before. "You need to consider all of your options and decide for yourself if you want to save the life of one while damning others, or if you are willing to sacrifice a life for the good of all. Remember that your point is moot when you realize that the livelihood of your friend has been snuffed out, and that every life that is taken from this point on will be on your shoulders."

Rebecca jerked her head up and caught the General's eye. She swallowed, hard, as she felt the tears she had tried to keep at bay begin to pool in the corners of her eyes again. She knew. She had seen it too despite not knowing Riza like she did. The General had seen what she had become, and knew that she was fading.

But more importantly, she voiced what Rebecca had selfishly tried to delay…

The General's brows wrinkled curiously, though it was only for a moment before the sound of approaching footsteps reached their ears. In an instant, the passive expression the General wore so well returned, and she turned to look over her shoulder at Rebecca again. "Once you've considered your options and grown a spine, you know where to find me…-"

The door to the room opened, and the doctor who was about to enter nearly ran into the General. Once he realized who it was, he was quick to salute and step to the side. General Armstrong took another moment, however, to shoot Rebecca a meaningful glare before she turned away and brushed past the doctor and nurse.

Rebecca was relieved in some ways that they had come at the time they had. Because at least for a while longer, she was given the refuge she needed to process the General's words… and time to correct her jumbled thoughts. Deep down in her heart she knew the conclusion she would have to reach.

But at least for a few moments longer, she could pretend that her best friend was still within reach.

* * *

Minutes had passed since the shadows' arrival, though it felt as though it had been hours. The shadow made no advancement toward them, a low hiss of discontent slipping past its clenched teeth every once and a while.

When her heart had slowed, Izumi took a tentative step toward it and its eyes narrowed. A slight movement out of the corner of her eye caught her attention and her eyes flickered down toward it, watching as a snake-like shadow slithered toward the entrance of their refuge, only for it to dissolve in a burst of sparks moments after it passed its self-imposed boundary. Marcoh stopped beside her, also studying the anomalous being. The air surrounding him was weighted by his thoughts, thoughts she knew they both shared.

It was peculiar that the shadow had trapped them, but had not made a move to kill them. It clearly had the capacity to, especially with the wounds that Falman had sustained. Unless, much like the small tendril she had just witnessed, it could not pass the boundary that had been set.

She was surprised to see Marcoh take another few steps forward, until he was toe to toe with the creature. Its eyes narrowed and it spat bitterly, its shadowy tendrils sparking and hissing as they fruitlessly tried to gain access to them. He seemed unfazed by its tantrum.

"I recognize you," he addressed it. "I never saw you, but I could hear you slithering around just outside of where I was held prisoner in Central. It seems to me that you are present in both Central and these tunnels, right?" It snarled again, and the corners of his lips tugged upward. "So then I'm correct, aren't I?"

" _You and those other worthless maggots will die here_ ," its disembodied voice finally proclaimed. " _You are trapped here along with me. I won't let you escape_."

Marcoh's brows lifted. "Is that what you believe, Homunculus?"

"Homunculus…" That was a Homunculus? Izumi had seen the different forms the Homunculi could take, and the variety of human-like shapes they could possess. But never had she imagined they could take on a form so vastly different from the norm she had begun to accept. Especially when it was something so grotesque and shapeless. It was as though this one was made of darkness itself.

"That's right," Marcoh explained without turning back to face her. "What you see before you is a Homunculus. I have no doubt about it. However," he added. "I believe that you have another form. Something that will allow you to walk around relatively unnoticed. It certainly took you long enough to find us wandering down in these tunnels. Were you reoccupied elsewhere?"

it squinted at him, and then its mouths split into an array of smiles. " _You're clever, Dr. Marcoh. Though, I wouldn't expect any less from an alchemist of your caliber. I_ do _have another form. One that you will never venture to see_."

"And why is that," Marcoh challenged. "You've prematurely announced your victory over us." He turned away from the monster and calmly walked over to the lantern they had set beside Falman. When he lifted it in his hand, he turned again to face it. "You are a creature conjured by shadows, no? What happens when there is no light for you to cast them?" Its eyes widened, but before it could answer, he flicked the lantern off and immersed them in darkness.

Izumi tensed, her heart rocketing into her throat. They were completely surrounded by the shadows, no longer safely behind the barrier that had been set against the monster. "You…" she gasped, "Dr. Marcoh, have you lost your—"

"It's alright," he answered from beside her. She heard his shoes scrape against the ground as he passed her, once again heading toward the spot the monster had stopped. She stumbled to her feet, reaching out in the darkness to grip his arm and draw him back, but she caught him too late. The echo of him stepping into the tunnel met her ears and she braced herself for his inevitable end. But the screams she had expected or the bloodbath she believed would come never did.

"You see," he explained, scuffing the toe of his shoe against the ground. "The creature may have the ability to cast its shadows wherever it likes in these tunnels, but it can only do harm where light is present. Isn't that right, Officer Falman?"

"The shadows vanished the moment my lantern shattered," Falman explained from behind her. "I… managed to crawl by way into this outpouching and just hoped that in the darkness it wouldn't be able to find me. I could hear it slithering around but it never… It never followed through with its intent to kill me."

"You're right," Marcoh continued. "It's definitely still here, listening to every word that we say. But as long as there is no light, it cannot touch us."

"So what do you propose we do now," Scar muttered. "The moment we break surface it will return."

Marcoh made a noise of disapproval. "What we intended to do when we first ventured down here: retrieve Edward Elric. If we step lightly and follow the sounds we've been hearing, then we'll be able to reach the fort. Once there, we can tunnel out and altogether avoid the Homunculus. Remember how it wasn't able to leave the tunnel itself and reach into this outpouching? If that holds true, then we should be able to create another that it won't be able to infiltrate."

"And if it can," Scar muttered dryly.

"Then we die," Marcoh answered matter-of-factly. "Either way, we will. Whether or not we do retreating or storming the fort, however, is entirely up to us."

The tension in the air was almost palpable. Izumi knew that Scar was less than thrilled about the excursion itself, especially considering that he had only agreed to lead them to his brother's notes because of Marcoh. Not because he wanted to help Edward or even wanted any part in what the Elric brothers were trying to do. The notion that he had attacked them was unsettling to her to say the least, and she would admit that she had been on guard from the moment they had begun their journey to collect his brother's notes. Though she had noted his less than interested, almost standoffish demeanor toward the brothers after that. As though something had changed between their encounter with him in Central and when he had been injured by Lust. But as long as his focus was off the Elric brothers, she would continue to keep her guarded alliance with him.

While she knew the reasoning behind his prior actions, she knew that she could never truly understand. She walked a fine line between sympathy and anger when it came to the actions he had taken against the military's State Alchemists, because on one hand she understood the atrocious injustices that had been committed against his people. But on the other… on the other she could not grasp the fact that he had directed his anger toward the two brothers, because of all the alchemists he could have targeted, their existence was the least of his concerns. Edward had never participated during the war. He was barely old enough to be in school at the time. The eastern part of the country, where Resembool lie, was affected by the horrendous war, and the lives of those living there were forever changed. He had made her very aware of the fact that both of their childhood friend's parents, doctors, had perished during the war.

In the end both sides had suffered innumerable losses, and many innocent people had died.

"I see." She stiffened when Scar's voice broke through the darkness. Even if he chose to abandon them at that moment, she would continue. No matter what. "So if there's no other option," he muttered. "We should continue on."

Izumi had formed a rebuttal but stopped short when she fully processed his words. He was… agreeing to move forward?

"So you're agreeing to move forward," Marcoh responded, a hint of surprise in his tone.

"What other option is there," Scar murmured. "The boy is a prodigy, right? If we want to make headway on the notes my brother left behind, we need as many eyes on them as we can get. It will all be pointless if we die retreating."

"I agree," Marcoh concluded. "So it's settled that we will move forward then."

Scar grumbled a reply and all at once the tension that had hung in the air around Izumi dissipated. Though it wasn't for Edward's good that he was doing it, she was at the least thankful that he had agreed to move on. She made a mental note to discuss her thanks in private with him later… after they got Edward back.

"Warrant Officer Falman," Marcoh addressed the officer. "Are you able to stand? Or would you prefer that one of us stay behind with you?"

"No… I can stand," he confirmed as he slowly rose to his feet and braced himself against the wall. "You're going to need me if you want to find Edward anyway."

Izumi reached into the darkness toward him, groping the air until she finally made contact with his shoulder. She tightened her grip and helped steady him. "Are you sure?"

He breathed out, the sound akin to that of a light laugh, and she heard him shake his head. "If it wasn't for Edward, I wouldn't be here right now. He was the one who saved me from whatever fate the Homunculus had planned."

Izumi wrinkled her brows. "What it had planned? What did it…?"

"I'm still not sure myself," he admitted as he began to shuffle forward toward the main tunnel, and Izumi began to follow. "All I know was that it wasn't good." He stopped and Izumi followed suit, both of them teetering at the edge of the opening that led into the tunnel.

Izumi sucked in a deep breath and slowly lifted her free hand. The memory of the Homunculus's shadows and bright red eyes slowly worked its way back into her mind. Marcoh's theory was sound. If it had wanted to kill them, it certainly would have done so… unless it was lying in wait just outside. But… right then Edward was what was most important to them. The longer they waited, the longer the battle that had begun at Fort Briggs would rage on… and the most opportunity there was for something to happen to him, whether it was because of the war itself or the Homunculus. If they remained there, they would likely starve or would be mutilated by the shadowy Homunculus. If they ventured out, they may very well meet that same fate. But if what Marcoh had proclaimed to be true, there was a chance that they would be able to make it out alive. That chance, however slim, was the one thing she would hold onto. Because that meant there was a chance she would get to him.

She extended her arm until she was well past the separation between the tunnel and their found sanctuary and waited. What she had expected was a debilitating attack, or tendrils of darkness wrapping themselves around her and engulfing her completely. But when the worst had not come, she eased the two of them out into the tunnel, beginning their final advance toward the fort… And toward Edward.

* * *

A loud rap against the window roused them from their solemn stupor and they both looked up to see May Chang standing in front of their window, her hands cupped over her eyes and pressed against the glass. Her small companion, 'Xiao Mei' Alphonse remembered, was standing beside her, face pressed against the glass and peering inside at them as well. Her mouth fell open when their eyes met and Alphonse scrambled to his feet and jogged over to the window.

When he unlatched, it she hopped inside and thanked him for his speedy response. Lifting a hand, he rubbed the back of his helmet and quietly answered her gratitude. She flashed him a small smile before she tore her eyes away from him to offer the same to Winry. Her expression, however, quickly changed, and the smile on her face quickly melted away as she watched Winry push away the tears that had stuck in the corners of her eyes.

Just as May opened her mouth to question Winry, she shook her head and forced a smile. "It's okay," she assured her. "I just got… a little overwhelmed, is all."

May's mouth formed a small 'o,' as though she understood what Winry really meant. She quickly looked between the two of them before her eyes ultimately settled on Alphonse. Her shoulders visibly slumped, and her expression grew mournful. "So you've already heard, then?"

May's shoulders visibly slumped and her expression fell. "Then you've already heard?"

"Already heard what?" Alphonse turned to exchange a confused glance with Winry. Though it was unfortunate to admit, they knew little outside of what was happening between them or within the military. But even then, they only knew whatever information Lust had fed to them. The twist of alarm that Alphonse felt within his soul tightened when May's eyes widened, and his thoughts immediately turned to the one person he was waiting to hear news on. He took a step forward and crouched down, and gripped her shoulders. "What is it, May? What happened?"

Her eyes flickered between them, and the realization that they had been on two different wavelengths. "So…" she said slowly. "You two haven't heard then? That Fort Briggs… is under attack?"

* * *

Every moment of every day, he struggled. Tearing, clawing, fruitlessly fighting against the impossibly tight hold Wrath had upon his soul. The stringent grasp by which Wrath held him failed to waver from the moment the Homunculus seized hold after his heated confrontation with Envy.

And since then he had fought.

Roy struggled and tore against the Homunculus's hold while he watched the light fade from Riza's eyes, as Lust edged her away from him, bit by bit, after she had manipulated her sins to fit her own.

He had fought tooth and nail against Wrath as it coolly voiced the order to have one of his dearest subordinates executed, simply because he had been thrust into the situation for his association with Roy. He mourned his loss while Wrath played it off as part of their elaborate game.

And he had clashed against the Homunculus every step it took toward defiling the beliefs of the Elric brothers, fighting with everything he could muster to prevent it from destroying their drive to retrieve their bodies. He had watched through eyes that had become as passive as one-way mirrors as they fought valiantly against the tyrannical efforts the Homunculi had enforced to tear them down, never wavering from their unwarranted need to salvage what was left of Riza and himself.

All that struggling, however much it sometimes felt as though it were all for naught, never ebbed. There were times where, just for a moment, he had been able to break free from the Homunculus's impossibly tight hold; when he, for a second, was able to be himself again. Those times had been fleeting, and the moment his rush of strength waned, he was forced back into the deepest recesses of his mind to be subjected once again to witnessing Wrath destroy everything it could.

This time, however, he found himself at the forefront of his mind with very little resistance from Wrath. He had fought so violently before, twisting and tearing against its hold on him with every stroke of its blade or snap of its ignition gloves. Every move that it dictated against Edward Elric, he viciously battled to counter it. And for a moment, just a single moment, he could break free and attempt to warn him away.

And the boy who never gave up refused his request, just as he so often did.

The almost frivolous touch of familiarity he often felt in his gut had been his weakness, and the Homunculus seized the opportunity. A burst of force and a flash of red accompanied its seizure of control before its grapple for dominance subsided, just as quickly as it had taken it again, leaving him alone in a haze to stumble through the aftermath of its actions.

His mind was lagging; he struggled to make sense of the red that his eyes would not leave. How strikingly different it was from the familiar red fabric it continued to saturate, the spot growing increasingly larger with every second that passed.

He fought to understand the bounding pulse he felt in his arm, each beat reverberating through the weapon in his hand.

His mind failed to understand, but deep down in his soul he knew what had been done.

His eyes finally, _finally_ , tore away from the growing spot of red on Edward's abdomen and flickered up to see that once determined golden eyes had lost their luster, drowned in pools of sorrow and hurt.

" _Do you see what your insubordination has done,_ Mustang," the Homunculus sneered as the blade slipped from Roy's grip and clattered to the ground beside him. He lifted his hand, pressing his fingers to the bridge of his nose and the lower curvature of his eye, and he felt the familiar restlessness of the Ouroboros flitted across it as Wrath slowly began to ease back into control. "If you had heeded my warning and refrained from trying to reach the boy, he would not be in the state he is now."

"Y… _you_ ," he gasped, stumbling back as flashes of red sparked through his vision. "What have you—"

"' _What have 'we' done_ ," the Homunculus corrected him as it pushed through the thinned veil that had once been Roy's defense. " _You have just as much a part in this as I. Your actions forced me to reprimand you both_."

His eye flickered down as Edward pushed himself onto his side and pressed his hands against the wound. The boy's eyes were wide in panic and the color had drained from his face, his expression having turned from shocked to panicked. Roy could see the slow acceptance that spread across Edward's expression as his mind caught up with his body.

" _Though limited, the medicinal alchemy knowledge you possess should be enough to patch him closed_ ," Wrath assured him. " _I won't let the boy die_."

" **You… You did this as** _ **punishment**_ ," Roy gasped.

The mottled cluster of souls that comprised Wrath's form twisted into the shape of a malignant grin. "I got both of your attentions, didn't I?"

With a deranged cry, Roy's arm violently jerked out and grasped at the collection of souls, dispersing them. " **I would have taken it** ," he snarled. " **I would have taken** _ **anything**_ **you would have dealt him**!"

The Homunculus reassembled itself with relative ease, casting its grin toward Roy once again. " _Such resent you feel, Colonel. Perhaps I should have done this sooner if it meant invoking your wrath further_."

" **You** _ **monster**_ —"

The Homunculus gripped hold of him and forced him back. " _Maybe it's best you sit back, Colonel. You've done enough damage_ —"

Roy slammed into the Homunculus's force, preparing to grapple for control again, when a quiet, "Damn it…" forced both of them to momentarily pause. His eyes moved without command to the boy who was lying a few meters from them, and widened.

Edward's fingers twisted in the red of his jacket, saturating the white gloves he wore with the blood. His attempt to staunch the bleeding, however, did little to slow it, as it continued to pool around him. His panic paused momentarily, long enough for his eyes to slowly wander up to Roy's again. His mouth fell open and a wave of blood cascaded from his lips, trickling down his chin and spilling onto his coat.

The corners of Roy's lips inadvertently turned upward and, in a voice as sickeningly sweet as honey, the Homunculus purred, "You weren't expecting _that_ were you, Fullmetal?"

Edward's lips moved in an attempt to respond. When the boy seemed to realize that the words would not come, he bowed forward and pressed his forehead against the cement and tried to catch his breath again.

The tormented cry that spilled from Roy's lips a beat later originated from the Homunculus as well as he dug the fingers of his hand into the socket of his eye. Ripping, tearing, clawing at the damned eye that gave the Homunculus its power, Roy feverishly fought to keep it at bay. It jerked back and he found himself in complete control again, falling to his knees with an anguished cry. The stab of pain ran directly through his head and radiated down his neck and spine as he dug his fingers deeper into his skull.

He knew that it would not evict the demon that had taken residence in his body, but it would be enough to remind it that he was not done fighting yet. Roy curled the ends of his fingers, digging into the soft, bulbous shape of the cursed eye. The Homunculus reeled and slammed against his psyche, throwing him off kilter. His balance faltered and he fell onto his side.

Through blurred vision he could see Edward staring back, widened eyes indicating that he was no longer focused on himself. Instead of using his other hand to staunch the bleeding, the boy was clawing at the ground in front of him, trying to drag himself over to Roy. He clenched his teeth and hissed, " _Get away_ , Fullmetal," and he shoved himself back.

"N… no," Edward wheezed as a look of defiance crossed his pallid face. "Not until… until you beat it…. Idiot."

Just as Roy sunk his fingers deeper into the accursed eye, his other hand rose up and gripped his wrist. The Philosopher's Stone that coursed through his veins electrified, and sparks poured from the crevices around his eye as Wrath drove and grappled for control. The toll from his defiant act against the Homunculus had already worn thin, and he felt his soul begin to slip away. Roy's head snapped back and with an anguished cry, thrust his fingers forward until his knuckles scraped against bone.

"Stop!"

Through red-tinged vision, Roy watched as Edward forced himself up onto his hands and knees. The boy took a few deep, panting breaths before he lifted his head to lock and then narrow his eyes. He carefully inched himself closer and coughed, "You… son of a bitch."

"Fullmetal," he hissed through clenched teeth as Wrath's hand crept closer to the blade he had abandoned. "Get _away_ —"

"Not… not a chance," Edward wheezed. "Not until you stop." Roy fought, jaw trembling, to force the words that Wrath had entangled in the back of his throat, but before he could Edward continued, "Whatever happened to… moving forward." His elbow jutted out from beneath him and caught purchase with the cement, and he dragged himself toward Roy. "Remember…? When you told me that? Whatever happened… to that?"

Wrath's grip around him tightened, and the fingers that penetrated the cursed eye independently withdrew themselves. Roy snapped the eye shut as the alchemic sparks that signified its regeneration. There wasn't enough time. The moments he had had control were drawing thin, and he no longer had complete control of his body. Roy rolled onto his back and used what little strength he had left to slam his eyes shut and press his tightened fist against his chest.

"You… told me," Edward whispered through bursts of labored breaths. "That I shouldn't give up. So why… why would I do that _now_?"

"L-listen to me, Fullmetal," Roy pleaded as he fought off another push for dominance from Wrath. "You aren't responsible _for us_. You need to… to continue going without us."

"Stop with that… senseless garbage," the boy snapped through a bout of hacking coughs. "You… Hawkeye… _Ling_. All of you are going to be there at the finish line…"

Roy's mouth fell open – the last free movement he could accomplish- and Wrath promptly snapped it shut. His eyes flew open and the hold he had on his consciousness slipped. Every ounce of control he had grappled to gain loosened, and he felt his limbs grow numb. He watched helplessly as Edward bowed forward again, and as he slowly sank back into his subconscious.

A defiant glean in his eye, Edward confidently muttered, "We'll… see you there."

It was the last thing Roy witnessed before he was hurled back into oblivion.

* * *

When he was finally within reach of the Colonel – when he was moments from nurturing his breakthrough – the opportunity was taken from them. One moment Mustang was there and then the next, Edward found himself staring at Buccaneer's back. His eyes darted up to the behemoth and he watched as the Captain turned around to glare down at him. Edward's eyes narrowed and he bared his teeth. If they had given him more time, then maybe—

"Edward!"

Edward squeezed his eyes closed and gritted his teeth as he was jostled around and shifted until his torso was on someone's lap. His hand clamped down over the wound as it throbbed from being pulled and stretched, and he willed his eyes open, finding himself staring into a set of striking deep red eyes. His heart constricted as the Ouroboros flashed in his mind, and his instinctive response was to push himself way. By the time his hand pressed against the person's chest, his senses returned and the rest of them slowly materialized in his otherwise dull vision.

He had had a sneaking suspicion about Major Miles's heritage, though he never found it in good taste to bring it up, nor had there ever been a time that was right…

Edward's hand slipped from Miles's chest and he rolled his head side to side to chase his wandering thoughts away. His mind had already begun to grow fuzzy, and he found that it was becoming harder to keep his mind on track. He twisted his fingers around the cloth of his jacket and pressed down on the wound. He hissed through his teeth and blinked away the darkness that had begun to cloud his vision, propping himself against Miles's arm. He vaguely registered the soldier's voice, but he brushed it off.

Edward knew that he wouldn't be able to use pressure to stop the bleeding for much longer. By the time Miles would bring him to a medic, it would likely be too late. It would only be a matter of time before he bled out completely. His eyes fluttered closed and he took a few hurried breaths, trying to clear his mind long enough to think straight.

The blood just seemed to keep coming. He hadn't thought the wound had hit anything important. It was difficult to determine, however, exactly what the Homunculus had perforated. Without knowing, it would be difficult to apply what little knowledge he had about medical alchemy to fixing it. But he knew that time was running out and that if he delayed it further, he would be past the point of being able to decide.

A blast rocked the ground beneath them and Edward's eyes flew open. He turned his head and saw Buccaneer disperse the smoke from Wrath's blast with a wave of his automail arm. The former wasted no time and sprinted forward, turning his claws on the Homunculus and managing to tear through the flesh of his shoulder. He idly watched as Wrath fell back with a hiss, his free hand lifting to cover the wound as a burst of red alchemic sparks poured from the wound.

It made sense that the Philosopher's Stone was so reactive. It coursed through Mustang's body via his blood, virtually touching every part of his body simultaneously. The moment it registers an abrasion it activates, and within moments it is healed.

A Philosopher's Stone that's… everywhere. That's easily accessible.

His eyes crossed and uncrossed, and he quickly found that it was too difficult for him to keep his focus on the fast-paced battle that raged before him. Edward's head rolled forward and he rested his chin against his chest, appreciating the extent of his injury. He tested his hands, squeezing and loosening them.

He could feel every inch of himself, from the frantic pound of his heart against his ribcage to the transient warmth at the tips of his toes. He was in control of every part of himself, conscious or otherwise. What his heart – his soul – desired, his body answered to. He lifted a hand and stared down at his tarnished glove, and he felt an almost mad smile tug at his lips.

Maybe it was the blood loss, but the thought that sprang into his mind seemed to be clear enough to execute. The principle behind it made sense, the only difference being that he did not house the magnitude of souls within him that Wrath had. He was but only one soul; one that, theoretically, housed enough energy for him to harness. Had he the time, he would have run over every potential complication in his head. But unfortunately, he did not.

"Edward," he heard Miles yell over the sound of another blast. "We need to get you to a doctor."

"Won't… make it to doctor," he hissed over the pound of his heart in his ears. "Need to… fix it _now_."

Before Miles could counter with his confusion, Edward hurriedly finished formulating the transmutation in his mind and slapped his hands together. The resulting burst of red alchemic energy that sparked at the tips of his fingers traveled down his arms and surged through his body. It electrified him, and he suddenly felt himself finally understand when it danced across his heart and continued its path through the remainder of his body.

It wasn't just the soul and body that fueled a Philosopher's Stone. It was the combination of those _plus_ the spirit that completed it. Every bit of the spirit that tethered his soul to his physical form pulled taut with the surge of energy. He could feel it in his arms and legs, his head and his heart. A Philosopher's Stone drew from every facet of a living being, mortal or immortal. That was what gave it the power needed to complete a perfect transmutation every time without fail.

He pulled his hands apart and drew the energy away from his body, concentrating it in his hands again. He swallowed the lump of doubt that had begun to form in his throat and looked up one final time. Past Miles he could see the Homunculus let loose another small burst of flames, which were quickly extinguished by a wave of Buccaneer's automail arm.

Edward brushed away the minute surprise that crossed his mind, reminding himself that Buccaneer was a soldier. One who was one of General Armstrong's most devoted and loyal men. It should not be too surprising to him once he realized that the behemoth was giving Wrath too little space to work with. Every time it attempted to snap Buccaneer would refuse to relent and, instead of shying away, would bound forward and close the distance between them. His brush with the monster, however brief it was, was enough for Edward to realize that it did not have the capacity to control Mustang's flames the way the latter could. It required more concentration and thought to conjure them… and Buccaneer caught on quickly.

His vision blurred and he tore his eyes away from the massive soldier to focus on his opponent again. The sparks he had seen erupt from its eye minutes before were a demonstration of the power of the Philosopher's Stone… and what he was confident he had felt just moments ago. Edward shook his head to chase away the darkness that fogged his vision of the Homunculus and allowed his head to slump forward and his chin to contact his chest. The blood from the wound was still spreading at an alarming rate, and he knew that if he hesitated again he would miss the opportunity to harness what he had discovered inside himself.

A half-hearted chuckle reverberated in his throat, realizing that it was the monster who damned him who ultimately led him to that revelation. It was almost laughable how its attempt to silence him had instead given him the knowledge he needed to completely understand the function of a Philosopher's Stone and, once he had cemented his survival, could ultimately lead to its downfall. His eyes fluttered shut and he took a deep, shaking breath as he tried to culminate his jumbled thoughts. What mattered was that he had drawn from it what was necessary of his understanding of the Philosopher's Stone. And because of it, he would be able to continue on to fight against it, and maybe even return home sooner than he had expected to.

A flash of grey and blonde interrupted the darkness and he slowly opened his eyes again, feeling the warmth that had otherwise left them slowly creep back to his fingers and toes. A small smile tugged at the corner of his lips. He'd be able to see Alphonse and Winry again, and get them to stop worrying about him. And maybe he'd even be able to see Winry smile again.

"Edward…"

He ignored Miles's probing, confused question and, still feeling the raw alchemic energy in his hands and fingers, pressed his palms to the wound. A surge of warmth blossomed from it and he pushed his hands harder against it as he allowed himself to return to the feeling he had felt moments before – when he could feel the combined energy of his soul, body, and spirit working together. When he grasped hold of it, he held onto it and closed his eyes, visualizing the cells in his body rearranging themselves and changing to fit their newly designated roles. Blood would become vessels, and the shredded skin from his wound would shed the cells that had died and proliferate again to form new tissue. He envisioned the blood vessels that had been torn to shreds and in his mind's eye reconstructed them again.

The dull burn where the wound was that had been steadily increasing suddenly ignited, and a searing pain erupted from it. Edward ground his teeth together and pushed through the white-hot pain, and forced himself to focus on the task at hand.

He would not die.

Not that day.

He had promised himself that he would see Alphonse and Winry again. He had vowed to return to them in one piece. And…

This time a flash of blonde, blue, and gold flashed before his mind, and he willed himself to focus on it – the visions of Mustang, Hawkeye, and Ling standing with their backs toward him, just beyond his reach. He promised them he would do whatever it took to bring them back, even if that meant sacrificing something in return.

Their bodies.

Al's body.

He would not die there, because he had so much more to accomplish. He wasn't done… not yet…

Another burst of pain surged through his gut and he collapsed onto his side as the raw bitterness of iron filled his mouth. He would not die. He would not die.

He would not die.

His vision blurred, and the visions returned; this time with more clarity.

He would not die.

Edward vaguely registered a low rumble in the pavement beneath him before his sight darkened, and the world disappeared.

* * *

When she had subjected herself to living in the North all those years ago, Izumi had played a game of cat and mouse with Briggs soldiers. Always staying within a reasonable distance from the fort; never far enough to be a day's walk, but never close enough to be detected by their ground forces. Just close enough, she had determined, to survive.

She would admit that she never paid much heed to what the inside of the fort looked like. It never interested her. Now that she was inside it, however, she found herself in awe of its size. It hid within it hundreds upon hundreds of soldiers. And among them, lost somewhere in the chaos that ensued after the morning's events, was Edward Elric.

Another blast shook the ground beneath them and Izumi stumbled, managing to find her bearings by stabilizing herself against a wall. She jerked her head around to survey the area behind them. It had been a blessing that none of the Briggs soldiers had confronted them. Though having Officer Falman at the helm of their team was certainly beneficial. The officer knew the fort like the back of his own hand, maneuvering them effortlessly around the barricades designed by his brothers-in-arms, weaving them around the packs of soldiers that were feverishly milling around.

"This way!"

She jerked her head up and watched as Falman and Scar pressed themselves against the wall. She stumbled forward and Dr. Marcoh caught her arm, pulling her against him. "They're in this room," he hissed in her ear. "We must step lightly and—"

The moment her mind registered the meaning of his words, she pulled her arm from his grip and pushed past Falman and Scar.

Her eye was immediately drawn to a behemoth of a man who was swinging wildly at another smaller, dark shape. She tracked it, and a moment later recognized that the black jacket belonged to the Homunculus.

"Major Falman!"

She jerked her head around and watched as Falman and Marcoh sprinted over to a blue and red form off to the sidelines. Before she followed after, she turned momentarily to keep tabs on the fight that continued to rage between the soldier and Homunculus. Deciding that they had been too preoccupied to notice their arrival, she hurriedly raced after Falman and Marcoh. As she drew closer, she registered that the red she had seen before was a familiar hue, and the form that it belonged to as well.

"Edward!" Upon realizing who it was, she fell to her knees alongside Marcoh. As she began to frantically survey him and reached up and pressed a hand to his forehead.

His eyes slowly opened and wandered up to find hers. A few moments passed before he seemed to process who she was, but when he finally had, he creased his brows. "T…teacher?"

"I'm here, Ed," she reassured him, resting a hand on his arm. "What happ—"

Marcoh gasped and she stopped, jerking around to set her panicked gaze on him. The doctor swept his hand through the pool of blood – the pool of blood she failed to notice when she had recognized the boy – and said, "How did this happen?"

"He hasn't said," the soldier informed them. "All I've managed to gather is that he has a wound to his abdomen. I was trying to move him when he did something to himself."

"Did something…" Marcoh muttered as his hands continued to work themselves over the boy's stomach. When his finger caught against a tear in the fabric, he stiffened.

"Had to… do something…"

Izumi immediately turned her attention back to Edward, reaching up with a free hand to cup his cheek. "What did you do, Edward," she pressed. "What happened?"

He passed a hand along his chest and abdomen and pushed Marcoh's hand out of the way. Hooking a finger in the fabric of his shirt, he slowly lifted it to reveal a raised, haphazard pink scar. Izumi slowly lifted a hand and brushed her fingers along its edge. She could feel the remnants of an alchemic reaction flickering off it and into her hand. Her jaw fell open and she looked up at him, horrified, and he slowly rolled his head side to side.

"We need to get him out of here or at the very least move him," the soldier interrupted. "Captain Buccaneer and I will keep the Homunculus at bay while you—"

Before he finished his thought, Izumi had risen to her feet and turned her attention toward the dueling pair. As she made a move to step forward, someone caught the sleeve of her jacket. She looked down as Marcoh curled his blood-tinged hands around the cloth of her jacket and shook his head. "We need to go, Mrs. Curtis. There isn't time."

She jerked her arm from his grasp and raised her hands. They would not stand a chance against the Homunculus. Not if it had harnessed the Flame Alchemist's alchemy. The moment they stepped foot outside that fort would be the moment they subjected those two men to a death sentence. Before she brought them together, however, she heard Edward's voice squeak something out at her feet. She lowered her eyes and watched as he tugged at the bottom of her pantleg and shook his head again.

She crouched down and began to slowly peel his fingers off when he muttered, "Teacher… don't."

Her face softened as she plucked the remaining fingers that clung to the fabric and held them between her hands, and took the moment to look him in the eye. With the most reassuring smile she could muster, she compromised and whispered, "I won't do anything you'd regret," and gently lowered his hand down to his chest.

He attempted to follow her as she rose to her feet, but both Miles and Marcoh were quick to prevent him from doing so. Before she could allow the look of disbelief that crossed his face to penetrate the fragile wall of strength she had constructed for herself.

"I don't want you to get involved," the soldier, Miles she believed she had heard Falman utter, yelled. "You need to get him out of here!"

She lifted her hands to her chest and held them a few inches from each other as she turned her body toward the Homunculus and soldier. "You tell me to not get involved," she murmured. "But how can I _not_ when you urge us to leave you behind with that monster?"

"Your objective is to move Edward," he barked back. "This is our battle to fight."

Their battle, she thought idly as she witnessed the Homunculus slash at the soldier. The behemoth dodged with relative ease before swinging his automail arm and clashing it against the monster's severed blade. The force was enough to knock it back a few feet. As it caught its footing, its gaze wandered over toward them, and for a moment their eyes met.

Its free hand instantly lifted and poised to snap, but before it could follow through, the soldier connected his arm with its side.

Every moment that they fought, and every moment they remained meant that Edward was drifting dangerously close to the edge. Time was of the essence, and another moment wasted they could not afford.

"Fine," she said as her eyes scanned the ensuing battle for an opening. "We'll leave just as you ask. I only have one condition for the two of you."

"Name it."

"The second you find an opening, once the battle here is won, I want the two of you to follow behind us. There's another Homunculus beneath Briggs, one that is more powerful and terrifying than the one you are fighting now. As long as you remain in darkness, it cannot harm you."

"You want us to follow you…," Miles repeated back.

"That's right," she said. "There will be a tunnel that separates from the one you will find yourselves in. That will be the one you follow. Once you are at the surface, make your way to Ishvalan refuge that has been established just beyond Briggs. You'll find us there."

The behemoth soldier clashed with the Homunculus again and took the stagnant moment to glare over his shoulder toward them. "What are you waiting for?! Move!"

"Do we have a deal, Major," she asked of the soldier behind her.

When she did not immediately receive an answer, she fought every urge to look back over her shoulder at him and shout her demand. However, before she peeled her eyes away from the fight, she heard him mutter in agreement. A reluctant reply, but an agreement nonetheless.

"Alright," Izumi said in an even tone as she tried to hide her relief. "In that case, consider this my limited involvement." With that, she slammed her hands together and dropped to one knee. The second her hands hit the ground, the concrete split and a wave of cement rose from the cracks. The thunderous roar of the growing wave was enough to force the Homunculus and soldier to momentarily pause their fight. " _Move_!"

The soldier, the nearer of the two stumbled back just before the wave reached him, opening its path to the Homunculus. Realizing what she had done, the Homunculus lifted its hand and snapped. The resulting ball of fire plowed into the wall of stone and circumferenced it, building in power as it gathered momentum.

She planted her feet firmly where she stood and commanded the wall of stone to make its final change. Though it tried to move, the Homunculus's decision to launch its attack coupled with the extensive mass of concrete she had directed toward it were its downfall. The cement under her command split in two and she watched satisfactorily as they wrapped themselves around the circumference she had determined would be enough to contain it. The two halves wound themselves around until they reached the end of their reach and snapped together at the apex of the tomb she had constructed. The cracks bled and warped until they melded together, encasing the Homunculus within the structure, and completely cutting off its connection to the outside world.

The burst of fire that had once been under its command lost its shape and momentum, and promptly fizzled out the moment its concrete tomb had sealed shut. The wave of hot air that remained of the once malignant ball of fire washed over the party, a final reminder of the monster's potential. Izumi lifted her hand to shield her eyes from the burst of warmth, surveying what she could of the encapsulating concrete structure she had made. It wasn't her best work by any means, but it would be enough to contain it until the men of Briggs decided what they would do with it. For the time being, however, it would do.

A moment later, the ground beneath her feet rumbled. For a moment, she had forgotten that they were in the middle of a warzone. She spun around on her heels and headed back toward the group she had left behind, finding that Miles had already handed Edward over to Scar. As she approached them, Marcoh had finished another brief assessment of the boy, turning to her as she halted beside him. "It appears that he managed to stop the bleeding, though I won't know the extent of it until I have a proper moment to look at him."

She had vaguely heard what he said, but her eyes and thoughts were primarily directed toward Edward. His eyes had sealed themselves shut again, and his face, no longer overshadowed by the Major's shadow, was paler than what she had thought before. Large beads of sweat had formed on his brow, and he was taking quick, shallow breaths. Her eyes still glued to him, she murmured, "Is it even safe to move him?"

The fort around them violently shook, as though to answer her question. She looked up and watched as pieces of loose cement broke free from the ceiling and crashed to the floor a dozen or so paces from them.

She heard Miles begin to speak again and when she turned to face him, found that he was speaking to Major Falman. The two men ended their exchange with a salute before Miles addressed her again. "Major Falman has informed me that the tunnels that brought you here should continue to hold. We suggest that you leave now to avoid any unforeseen circumstances."

Out of the corner of her eye she saw the second soldier approach them and said, "What about the two of you? What will you do now?"

The corner of Miles's lip twitched. "We'll continue to hold down the fort."

"And make sure _it_ doesn't cause any more trouble."

Her eyes temporarily left Edward to focus on the soldier who had taken on the Homunculus. Now that she was closer to him, she was surprised to see that he was even bigger than what he had appeared to be before. Almost as tall as Sig if she had to wager. She looked past him and toward the tomb she had enclosed it in, noting that it appeared as sound as it had been before.

He jabbed a finger over his shoulder toward the prison of stone and added, "I'll keep watch until we figure out what the hell's going on. But for now," he puffed. "You lot need to get out. The longer you stand here gawking, the worse off we'll all be."

"Major Falman," Miles continued. "Will you let us know Fullmetal's status once you return to safety?" When the man in question answered with a firm nod, he said, "My code is alpha-one-nine-tango. If you give it to the operator, you should be directly patched over to me. Once this is all over, we'll coordinate further—"

"I told you to follow after us," Izumi cut in. "We'll leave the tunnel open for you to follow behind. If you're left with that monster, there's no telling what it will do to you."

The look he offered her was reassuring, though she could see behind it the uncertainty he housed. "I haven't discounted your offer, Mrs. Curtis," he assured her over a low rumble. "But right now I need to make sure the men here are safe as well."

Before she could counter him, Marcoh stepped in with urgent purpose and placed a hand on her shoulder. Pulling her momentarily away from what she was beginning to feel was a one-sided argument, he said, "There isn't time to argue, Mrs. Curtis," as he gestured to Edward. "You know just as well as I that time is of the essence."

She turned toward the boy once more and she swallowed the alarm that had been building in her throat. His eyes had drifted closed again, and an unnatural calm had drifted across his face. She held for a moment, unwavering from her stance until she saw his chest slowly rise and fall.

"So it's time to get a move on," Buccaneer added, impatiently tapping his automail against the palm of his flesh hand as he began to herd them toward the direction they had come from.

Izumi threw another glance toward Miles, but he quickly dismissed her with a salute and a nod toward Edward. She gave him a nod while Falman returned the gesture with a salute. "Best of luck to you, then," she muttered.

He slowly lowered his hand and offered her the same. "All the best to you as well."

* * *

The moment they disappeared around the corner and away from view, Miles immediately turned his attention toward the cement dome the woman had constructed. From what he had seen, the walls were at least six inches thick, and the structure weighed at least two tons. He assumed that the Homunculus would have broken through the structure if it had the capacity to, unless it was lying in wait for the opportune moment. Though the longer it took for it to make an appearance again, the further Edward and the others would be from it. And the further they were, the safer he was.

"What are your thoughts," he mumbled as Buccaneer stopped beside him, his eyes also glued to the massive structure. "Are we going to leave it there until the outcome to this battle is more clear, or should one of us keep watch over it.

"'F we do that, you're gonna have to take the first watch," Buccaneer muttered.

Miles turned toward him and shot him a curious look. "Why do you say—"

He trailed off, eyes widening, as Buccaneer pulled his jacket apart, and revealed that the broken blade the monster had been wielding had been pushed through him, the hilt of it flush with his skin.

* * *

"Stop."

Izumi skidded to a halt and jerked around as Scar and the rest of their group slowed behind her. "Why are you stopping," she hissed, stumbling through the darkness toward where she had heard him stop. "We don't have time to be stopping here. We need to get a reasonable distance from the fort before we can—" Something brushed past her and she jumped, startled. A second person collided with her, and this time she was thrown off balance and fell. A muttered apology confirmed that it was Dr. Marcoh who was the offending second person, but before she could demand an explanation she as dragged back to her feet and violently jerked toward where Scar had stopped.

She stumbled into Marcoh and gripped his arm as he slowly lowered himself to the ground. His hands were instantly at work, pulling and tugging at something she couldn't see. When she reached forward and groped around, she felt her hands slid down a familiar metal hand and her chest constricted. "Edward—"

He was torn from her grasp and she fell forward. A hand found her shoulder and steadied her as she heard Marcoh bark, "He stopped breathing! We need to get out of here this instant!"

She stumbled forward and her hands found the cavern's wall. Izumi lifted them again and hurriedly constructed a formula that would carve out an adequate space for them. She slammed her hands together and pushed them against the rock and felt it shift beneath them. It fell away from them and she stepped into it, guiding them inside until she was sure they had all made it in.

"Get me your matches, Falman," she heard Falman bark. As he began to fumble around in his pockets, Izumi fell to her knees beside Marcoh as he tore through the fabric of Edward's jacket.

The burst of light from Falman's match illuminated the small cavern she had constructed, and her eyes immediately flickered down to the boy's stilled form. Her hand instantly found Edward's and she pushed her fingers against his wrist as Marcoh's hands slid up his neck and pressed down.

Her heart began to race and her eyes frantically darted up to Edward's face. She lifted her free hand, running it against his cheek and lightly jostled him. "Edward." Had his face been that pale before? Had the circles under his eyes been that prominent? "Edward!" She could not remember if his skin felt that clammy before, or if the ambient air was playing tricks with her senses. Was his skin really that cold when she had last felt it?

" _Edward_ -"

Images of Edward in his youth flashed through her mind, replaying to her in series as blips of him before he had left for Briggs interspersed themselves into the chronological blend. Until the final glimpse she caught of him before he left flickered before her mind's eye, and she understood how it contrasted the pallid, expressionless face she witnessed before her.

Her hand seemed to move without instruction, and she numbly curled her fingers tighter around his wrist as someone fell to their knees beside her. But she knew that no amount of pressure would change what she could, or rather could not, feel. Because as she dazedly watched Marcoh tear through the clothing on Edward's torso to get to his chest, the gravity of what was happening slowly sank in.

And she finally understood that Edward Elric's heart had stopped beating.


	18. Chapter 18

**A/N:** _Sorry this took me so long to get to! I had a number of difficult clinical rotations, and then worked on Royai Week fics and started (and eventually dropped) an FMA Big Bang fic that I might publish here later. I realized that I didn't have the time to finish it before it was due, and decided to save it to work on during a rainy day. I've even started to look at_ Gravity _again, and want to focus on that fic as well as the second chapter to_ she who walks the edge of darkness _. Expect something a lot sooner now that I'm hitting a less busy period :)_

 _This chapter has a few moments where some concepts are only touched on, and they will be explained in more detail in the next chapter._

 _Thank you for all of the reviews, favorites, and follows! As always, let me know if there is something that feels rushed or if someone is OOC. I hope you enjoy!_

* * *

Izumi Curtis had always prided herself when it came to her ability to respond when under pressure. There were few times she could recount where she hesitated at the most critical of moments, the only ones she could remember having been during her apprenticeship. But now, for the first time in a long while, she found herself frozen and her mind blank.

 _Move… damn it_ , her mind screamed as she clung more tightly to Edward's wrist to find the pulse she knew wasn't there. _Move. Act. Do something!_

It wasn't possible. It couldn't be. Her vision blurred and she reached up with her other arm to wipe away the tears that had begun to spill from her eyes as Marcoh's efforts failed to produce any results. "Edward…" she gasped as she pulled at his limp arm. "Edward!—"

"Scar, take over for me."

The addressed hastily stepped forward and resumed chest compressions as Marcoh angled himself around to Edward's head. He ripped the lamp from Falman's hand and held it close to the boy's face and used his other hand to peel open his eyelids. "There's still a light reflex," he gasped, and he motioned for Falman to join alongside him. "I want you to deliver breaths every ten seconds, Officer. Do not stop until I tell you to."

She blinked when Marcoh's eyes skimmed over to her and caught her dazed stare, and her mouth fell open to address him, to ask him the hows and whys and whats that had begun to engulf her mind. But then his gaze broke and he redirected his attention to a spot over her shoulder, and he swore under his breath. Her eyes followed his to the mouth of the cavern they had crafted for themselves, and she found herself glaring into the eyes of the shadowed Homunculus they had faced prior.

Its eyes slowly scanned over them until they landed on Edward, and its many mouths formed into frowns. As it continued to watch the boy, a dark tendril broke away from its shapeless form and slithered across the ground. Once it reached the threshold of their egress, however, an explosion of alchemic energy ignited it and it drew its arm back with a hiss. It began to grind its teeth and shot its venomous glare toward the party.

A surge of anger ripped through her, and before Izumi could rationalize with herself, she leapt to her feet and tramped toward the Homunculus. "Are you not satisfied," she spat, and it recoiled with surprise. "Haven't all of you done enough?!" It curled back and hissed as she toed the line that separated them from its container, her face inches from one of its multiple eyes. "You monsters don't know what's coming, or what I'm capable of. I won't rest until your existence is wiped off the face of the earth."

"Mrs. Curtis—"

She bared her teeth and slowly edged her foot away from the line she had toed.

Its eyes narrowed, and its lips split into a series of cheeky grins, as though it was challenging her proposal. Izumi bit back a bitter laugh. "I won't be starting with you, Homunculus," she said as she slammed her hands together. "I'll come for you once the Homunculus known as Wrath is dead." She caught of glimpse of its mouths falling ajar moments before the bedrock she beckoned forth plugged the hole they had hidden in closed, shutting them off from the rest of the tunnel.

She could feel its weakened presence on the other side of the rock and she hissed with contempt. Her heart had given way and opened up to allow the hate that had been churning in her mind to slowly seep in, and she curled her hands into fists. They aimed to take everything from her, threatened the boys she had come to call her own, and threatened to destroy the family she had built for herself.

"Mrs. Curtis—"

Marcoh's second call snapped her from her thoughts, and she glanced over her shoulder to find him beckoning her toward him. She left the wall she had constructed behind and collapsed to the ground next to him. "I'm sorry," she said as she breathed out and grabbed Edward's wrist again. Every pump of his chest pushed another burst of blood through his vein. It was artificial, but still there. She swallowed the anger she had felt when her eyes traveled down to his pallor face, and she remembered the reason behind her outburst. And right now, he needed her more than ever. "I'm here now. What do you need me to do?"

"I'm going to need you beside me if someone needs you to take over," Marcoh said as he dug his hand into the pocket of his jacket. "Because right now we're running rapidly through the list of options."

* * *

"I'm getting really sick of this."

Lust drew out a long sigh before opening her eyes to peer wearily toward the sibling who had taken residence in the small office she had claimed. Envy tapped their foot impatiently and huffed when she lifted a hardhearted brow. Throwing their hands into the air, they exclaimed, "Do _you_ want to play Grumman for a while? Because I'm this close," Envy said, holding their thumb and forefinger a few millimeters apart, "From losing it. If I have to hear another question about what we're going to do in regard to the compromised trade agreement with Creta, I'm going to lose it."

She stole a careful glance toward the clock on the wall, confirming that it an hour had passed since office hours had begun. Not only had Zampano and Jerso failed to bring Alphonse and Winry to her as instructed, but she also had to endure Envy running their mouth for half of it. Lust resisted the urge to rub the throbbing temple their rants had induced and instead leaned back in her chair. "And what exactly do you want me to do about it, Envy? Father is the one dictating our moves. You've been allotted the roles of Grumman and Wrath because of your design. You are the only one who is capable of maintaining a different façade."

Envy's nostrils flared and they put their hands on their hips. "And now I'm down to only playing the decrepit old geezer Father put in office after we officially nixed Wrath. That was the only source of entertainment I had up until that point. Playing 'Fuhrer-elect Grumman' is like playing a kazoo. There's nothing of value to it!"

Lust nodded to try and convey some sort of faux understanding toward her sibling's plight. The role was certainly one where they had to participate in political discussion rather than straight up manipulate it. They actually had to _think_ for once.

"Until Grumman can fit more comfortably into the role he was designed, you will have to continue to play the part. That is the unfortunate reality of the situation, Envy."

"Easy for you to say," they grumbled. "You have the luxury of doing anything you want which, by the way," a small smile tugged at their lips, "How is it going with the Fullmetal brat's younger brother and his girlfriend?"

"How do you think it's going," she muttered, gesturing toward the clock on the wall. "They're already an hour late without a single call from their assigned guard."

"Sounds like you have an issue with control," Envy retorted. "If I were in your place, I'd—"

"I didn't ask your opinion, Envy," she said as she deflated her sibling. "It wouldn't surprise me if they were glued to the radio listening to the skirmish between Briggs and Drachma. Frankly, it might be a blessing in disguise."

"Why's that?"

"I've already had to deal with that little bitch's high-pitched whine for days," Lust contended as her most recent encounters with Winry slowly trickled back into her mind. Just the _thought_ of her exacerbated the dull throb that had already seated itself inside her head and she rubbed her aching temples. "I have no doubt that she'd be in here worried sick about Edward's status."

"Sounds like a nightmare," Envy said as a crackle of sparks accompanied their words. The pitch of their voice had changed drastically toward the end of Envy's statement, and Lust did not have to look to know what they were trying to taunt her with. A glance toward the periphery of her vision confirmed that 'Winry Rockbell' had taken Envy's place and she scowled.

"Don't make me use you as an outlet for my anger, Envy. Your regenerative abilities are tempting enough."

Envy's lower lip popped out and a quick change reverted them to their usual state. "Humph, you're no fun." They crossed their arms. "The other Lust would've gotten a kick out of that."

"The 'other Lust' probably didn't have a constant migraine," she countered. "And you can go have your fun by playing around as Grumman while I try to figure out what to do with my multiple headaches."

"I'd rather not," they said, leaning back against the desk.

She sighed but did not argue the matter further, lowering her eyes to the papers she had spread out in front of her. It was trickier than she thought it would be to place Catalina where she wasn't directly overseeing her, yet had ready access to her. Lust pressed the tip of her pen against the paper and then lifted it before pressing it to the paper again. Not only were the thoughts of what had occurred with Catalina clouding her mind, but now the events that led up to the confrontation between herself and Winry had shoved their way inside.

" _Lust_ …"

The sound of Pride's voice sent chills racing through Lust's spine, and she instantly sat at attention as its shadowy tendrils oozed through the cracks beneath the windows. Despite her familiarity with her eldest sibling, she still found that she could not shake the primitive fear the Lieutenant's body inadvertently reverted to after discovering who Pride was. She leaned back in her chair, eyes carefully following the shadows as they wound themselves across the floor and spiraled up the legs of her desk. One of the red, all-seeing eyes opened as they spread across her desk and she lifted her brows. "I wasn't expecting you, Pride. I assumed you and the former Mrs. Bradley would be too occupied with the last of Wrath's affairs for you to slip away."

" _Unfortunately, that has been the case_ ," it said. " _I was able to slip away for a few moments to deliver you a message_."

"'A message,'" she echoed as Envy perked up.

" _Yes_ ," it said. " _I've come to inform you of some… troubling news."_

Her brows knitted together. "News? Of what sort?"

" _The Fullmetal Alchemist is dead_ …"

Pride's words took a few moments for her to process, but once they had and they settled heavily in her mind, her heart stopped.

"Your silence is… surprising," it mused and its many eyes narrowed.

She opened her mouth to respond but found that her throat had run dry, and suddenly the words that sat on the edge of her tongue dissolved. The Fullmetal Alchemist was dead… Pride had said it so effortlessly, so without care that the revelation _had_ taken her by surprise. Just thinking the words stirred a bout of dread inside her gut, and she had to push down the alarmingly overwhelming dread that had climbed into the back of her mouth.

"I'm…" she murmured, surprised by her reaction. No doubt the Lieutenant, who had remained as eerily quiet as she had in recent days, had some form of influence over her response. In some ways, she resented the unheeded tug on her heartstrings it had produced, but on the other she was relieved to feel the pang of surprise. It meant that the Lieutenant, however silence she had been, was still present as she had intended for her to be. She reached up and grasped a handful of her uniform in her hands, willing the unsolicited pound of her heart against her ribcage to slow, and drew in a deep breath. "I'm… surprised."

" _As was I_ ," Pride continued. " _But there is no mistaking what I saw within the tunnels beneath Briggs_."

"You _saw_ it?" Another pang rippled through her chest.

" _I sensed intruders beneath Briggs. When I went to investigate, I found that a small party had snuck past my line of sight and had infiltrated the fort from below_."

"Does this party include Izumi Curtis," she asked, deflecting her growing feeling of dread toward a pen on her desk. She picked it up and balanced it between her thumb and forefinger. Anything to distract her body from what her mind was beginning to accept.

" _I am unaware of what her appearance may be. But_ ," Pride said, " _A woman that would likely be her was there, along with a soldier, a doctor, and an Ishvalan man with a scar on his face_."

A… scar? "Interesting…" she mused, dropping the pen in favor of the new information Pride had stepped forward with. For the first time since their encounter, she caught one of its many eyes in her line of sight. "You're saying that Scar is among them?"

" _It would appear so_ …"

Admittedly, Scar had become less of a priority to her after trying to manage Alphonse and Winry. She would begrudgingly accept the fact that he had slipped from her grasp and would face the consequences of her incompetence later. But at that moment two questions hung in her mind: Why he had joined up with them and, more importantly, how that fate had befallen Edward Elric, if that was truly what had happened. The pull in her chest was becoming unbearably taut. Attempting to remedy it, she began to drum her fingers methodically across the desktop, much to Envy's amusement.

"How did it happen," she asked. She was surprised by how embarrassingly weak her voice had sounded and swallowed to rid her throat of the lump that had begun to form. "How did Edward Elric die?"

" _I only managed to catch a brief glimpse of the boy_ ," Pride said. " _The one you're suggesting was Izumi Curtis sealed them behind a wall of stone before I could further probe the situation. Before we were separated, however, she remarked about how we had 'done enough_.' _If I were you, I would contact Wrath. He was likely one of the last to have contact with the boy."_

"If that's at all possible. They're in the middle of a warzone right now. I wasn't planning to hear from Wrath until the battle has been decided. And with what you've just told me, Pride, it's possible that I won't have a status update from him until much later, assuming he went after them," Lust replied.

" _I had yet to sense him in the tunnels beneath Briggs, but I will continue to monitor the situation once I am able to return_."

"Fair enough," she reasoned as she resumed the thoughtless task of tapping her pen against her desk.

Pride's eyes wandered toward her rhythmic tick, though no mention was made of it. Instead, eyes never leaving the pen, Pride mused, " _It does not bode well for us, losing another sacrifice_."

"I know that," she retorted, more bite in her words than she had intended there to be. "I'm already wracking my brain trying to figure out how we can correct this… situation." There was no purpose telling him or letting on that, though her mind had briefly wandered to other options they could pursue in terms of sacrifices, it immediately returned to the eldest Elric boy. Toward the growing lump in her throat that she could not swallow. She had given little attention to the stunned, though sluggish response to the news the Lieutenant had. Surely she was feeling what Hawkeye would feel in real time. It was the only explanation for the heart-crushing pain she felt in the center of her chest.

Lust curled the fingers of her free hand into a fist and dug her nails into the flesh of her palm. Anything to deviate her mind from the boy. From Hawkeye. From the realization that their plans had momentarily taken a backseat in favor of the emotional response that was slowly building in Hawkeye's soul.

" _Lust_."

She jerked her head up and Pride's eyes narrowed. " _I will continue to scope the tunnels once I am able. I want you to move forward with your preparations for the late Fuhrer's funeral. Keep Alphonse Elric close, lest he retaliate in an unsightly display_. _And you, Envy_ ," he continued, turning his eyes toward their unwilling sibling, " _You are to continue masquerading as General Grumman until we are able to manage him_."

Envy groaned but said nothing further, folding their arms over their chest with a child-like huff. Lust was thankful they would not argue the point. The air was stifling and the thought of continuing the conversation made her feel nauseous. When Pride's eyes wandered toward her again, she nodded.

His glare remained on her for a few moments longer than she felt necessary, as though he were trying to find something in her expression that could lead him to continue the conversation further. His eyes narrowed and the many-toothed mouths that littered his shadows drew downward, an indication that whatever he was looking for had been found. But rather than announce it, the shadows that made his presence known slowly began to recede. " _I will keep you all informed of the matter, so do not stray too far from where my voice can reach you_."

A feeling of uneasiness momentarily misplaced the unwarranted dread that had settled in the back of Lust's throat as the shadows melted down the walls and across the floor. " _Do know, however, that I will continue to be watching_."

For one moment, she thought she had seen a sinister glean in the reddened eye that remained a moment too long. But before she could catch it again, Pride was gone, leaving her to dwell on the subtle warning he had so effortlessly laced his words with.

Envy let out a low whistle and roused Lust from her internal musing. "How's that for an interesting turn of events," they muttered as they lifted a hand. "On one hand, I'm disappointed that the pipsqueak is out of the game. I was actually starting to like the kid too. He posed an interesting challenge for us. But on the other," they said, raising their other hand as a malicious smirk split their lips, "I can already tell that the angst-fest is going to be phenomenal. Oh!" They pushed off from the desk and spread their arms out wide as sparks crackled around them. "What do you think of this," Envy exclaimed as the rush of energy morphed them into an exact replica of Edward Elric. "How about this," they cackled, thrusting a thumb toward themselves, "I'll take on the role of Edward Elric next and—"

"You _idiot_!" Lust shot up from her desk with so much force that her chair toppled over behind her and she slapped a hand to her forehead. Her stomach lurched and she pressed her other hand against the desk to steady herself.

Envy's brows knitted together and they reverted to their usual form. They pressed their hands against their hips. "Geez, what's up with you? It was just a thought—"

Lust pushed violently past them and staggered toward the adjoining office's door. "Get back to your post. You're wasting time," she hissed as she fumbled with the doorknob until she managed to get a good grip on it and pushed it open. "And wait for Pride's next briefing." She could feel their confused glare boring into the back of her skull even after she slammed the door behind her and stumbled into the empty room.

She buried her face into her hands and gritted her teeth as another overwhelming wave of emotion rushed over her. Lust understood the consequences of bonding her essence to the Lieutenant's, and knew what would entail as she devoured her soul. She found herself questioning her hastiness now, however, as it became clear to her that the all too human emotions Hawkeye carried were something she was not fully equipped for. The worst part was that the Lieutenant remained silent through it all, allowing her emotions to demonstrate what was in her heart.

Loss _hurt_. It hurt. The soul-grinding, heart-wrenching emotions that clenched at her heart and cut the air from her lungs were agonizing. It felt as though the world was spinning around her, and that she was sinking into oblivion as Pride's words played over in her mind again and again.

Edward Elric was _dead_. The child that she –no, the Lieutenant- had watched overcome every obstacle, every challenge he had been faced with was gone. The realization was overwhelming her, and the tears that had been burning her eyes began to freely fall.

No…

No...!

* * *

"No!"

Riza's knees buckled and she crumpled to the ground as she broke into a fit of sobs.

* * *

"Captain Buccaneer, you need to—"

"Not now," Buccaneer growled, shoving an arm out to prevent Miles from taking a step closer. He closed his hand around the hilt of the piercing blade to hold it in place, his eyes never wandering from the tomb the woman alchemist had built around the Homunculus. "We can't take our eyes off it. We don't know what else that monster is capable of."

They couldn't take their eyes off it, that much was true. The battle still raged around them. Miles knew they were between a rock and a hard place, and with Buccaneer injured, a third element was added to their growing list of imminent concerns. His eyes swept over the structure, looking for any signs of deficiencies in the stone that would indicate that the Homunculus had a means of escape. But the moments he stole to survey it proved uneventful, and he was filled with a small sense of relief when he realized that the structure was sound. Once he realized that it showed no signs of giving, he turned his attention toward Buccaneer and the status of the fort.

He tore his eyes from the structure to inspect his wounded companion. It was clear to him that Buccaneer was slowly declining into a state of shock. The pallid shade his face had taken on and the beads of sweat that had accumulated on his brow spoke volumes. The ever-determined, raw expression he had adopted so long ago, however, remained ever present on the Captain's face.

Before he could argue the point further, though, the sound of boots on the ground drew their attention from the tomb. As the squadron neared them, the one toward the front of the pack spotted the Captain's wound and exclaimed, "Sir, are you alright? What happened—"

Buccaneer waved them away and grunted, "I'm fine! Focus on the fort! One soldier down should be the least of your worries."

"But that's just it, sir. We came to find and deliver the fort's status to you once we realized you had left your post."

"Well," he growled. "What's the status? What's happened that necessitates coming to find me?"

The soldier delivered a salute. "Sir, we've come to tell you that we've managed to subdue the Drachman forces. The attack in its entirety is over."

* * *

Wrath hissed as another flood of Mustang's combative advance tore through him, and he pushed back against his struggle for control.

An immeasurable amount of energy had been wasted for something that should have otherwise been a simple task. Having to dig through Mustang's memories for the remnants of his alchemic knowledge for a groundbreaking technique was already a difficult task to accomplish, even more so now when the rage-filled Colonel was making every effort to stow it away from Wrath's grasp.

When it finally came to him, he had to draw the transmutation circle in short bursts of light using the flames of Mustang's he had tamed, and the blood that continued to trickle from the wound that had been inflicted on his eye. But when it was finally completed, Wrath was able to destroy the ground beneath his feet and slip into the tunnel undetected. He knew it would only be a matter of time before the Captain and Major discovered his escape and came looking for him, but as long as he reached Elric and the crew that had slipped past Pride's watchful eye before they could, he would consider it a victory.

Wrath clapped a hand over the damaged eye, digging his fingernails into his skin to distract him from the agonizing pain its path of healing had elicited. "You don't know when to give up, _do you_ ," he snarled, jaw clenched, as the Colonel continued to fight tooth-and-nail against his control. Unrelenting and without heeding his warning, Mustang thrashed back against his slipping hold of control, and he momentarily faltered. He slammed his free hand against the tunnel wall and steadied himself.

"You… _monster_!" The Colonel's voice exploded past Wrath's lips before he had the chance to smother him again. Vying for control suddenly felt impossible as the weight of the Colonel's violent retaliation began to overpower him. No longer steady enough to keep himself standing, Wrath's knees buckled beneath him and he collapsed onto the ground.

"I won't let you get _away with this_!"

Mustang's fingers clawed into the flesh above the still healing eye. Wrath tore his hand from the wall and ripped the other away before he could cause any more damage, and he slowly sank to his knees.

Had he known that the Colonel would fight so valiantly against his actions, he would have done what he did sooner, when the Colonel was still an entirely different entity. But now, he found, his connection to him made his emotions harder to control, and the anger and despair that was consuming the Colonel began to consume him...

A glint of light in his periphery caught his attention, and he gave the Colonel one final shove temporarily granting him the control that was rightfully his. His body trembled as Mustang continued to fight, and he carefully lifted his eye to find that the light was beginning to draw closer. And with it was a familiar man clad in white.

"Well, well. It looks like you've hit a snag."

Wrath gritted his teeth, unamused by the casual demeanor Kimblee exuded while he continued to struggle. He pushed back against Mustang, shoving him far enough into the recesses of his mind to solidify his claim to power. "What do you want, _Kimblee_?"

The mercenary lifted his brows, unimpressed, and said, "I've begun to retreat from the front lines, just as your Father ordered. I'd suspect that by now the Drachman forces have exhausted their supply, and should be close to defeat right about now." A smile tugged at the edge of his lip. "It appears you did not fare as well as I, 'General.'"

It took every ounce of self-control Wrath had to not rip the life from Kimblee, and he reminded himself that the blade he had used had been abandoned when it had been thrust through Buccaneer. He would not accept failure. Not yet. The group that had taken Edward was still within reach. His soul would not settle until he saw the boy again: whether he was dead or alive.

"Find… him," he managed to ground out.

Kimblee's brows arched. "What was that?"

"I want you… to _find_ _Edward Elric_ ," he snapped.

Unfazed by Wrath's obvious struggle, Kimblee folded his arms over his chest, the hint of a smile on his face. "I thought you were supposed to be watching him, Homunculus. Isn't that the reason you brought him North?"

Wrath snarled. "He was taken from me by Izumi Curtis and Scar."

His statement piqued Kimblee's interest. "You're referring to the Ishvalan that's been terrorizing state alchemists, am I correct? The tabloids have been referring to him as such."

"That's right… If you capture Elric, you can do whatever you please to the rest of their pathetic party. Including the Ishvalan."

Kimblee pressed his lips together and mulled over Wraths' proposition. After a few moments of silence, he shrugged. "I guess it would give me something to do while I lay low for a while. Do you suppose they'll seek refuge in the Ishvalan settlement that's been established here," he mused. "I think it's definitely worth a look. At the very least, it would be fascinating to see whether any of them were unfortunate enough to slip past me in Ishval—"

"Do whatever you think is necessary. Take the chimeras you brought with you if need be. Just…" he grunted and clawed his fingers into the dirt. "Just bring the Elric boy back, dead or alive."

Kimblee's lips curled into a smile and he flexed his hands. "That can certainly be arranged."

* * *

"The attack happened sometime last night. Your neighbors to the north, I believe the nation is called 'Drachma,' surprised the northern Briggs fort."

The words were flowing into their minds, but they weren't entirely processing them. They had experienced war before, it was something they had learned when they lived in the east. The tales and stories that returned from the frontlines of Ishval had become unfortunately commonplace, parts of their childhood that they had grown up with. They had later learned that the 'war,' though, was nothing but a senseless massacre, and was not as evenly weighed as they had been led to believe.

But now they were confronted with an equally atrocious beast. The attack, from what they understood, was an act of war. And right there in the middle of it was Edward Elric.

"From what I understand, the fort struck back quickly and has been holding its ground. But I haven't been able to get access to a radio for a few hours. We could turn on—"

"There isn't time," Winry said as she jumped to her feet. "We have to go now."

Alphonse was right behind her, but the overload of information May had supplied them with stalled his thoughts for a few moments longer. The realization that his brother was in danger and that Amestris was at war, a convenient development given the nation's vulnerability, was staggering. When Winry brushed past him and toward the door, Alphonse's hand shot out from his side and gripped her arm, stopping her in her tracks.

Winry's head snapped around and gave him a questioning glance. He knew how deeply she cared about him, a different form of love that matched his own love for his brother. But his years of travel and snap-fast decisions gave him the ability to rationalize his thoughts before jumping into the jaw of a situational beast that would otherwise devour both he and Edward. Something he knew his brother and Winry, when confronted with that overwhelming fear of loss, would sometimes lack. Then her face softened and she said, "Alphonse, please. We… we have to go."

He wanted to go just as badly as she. He wanted to jump on the next train north to fight for his brother and bring him home.

"Wait," he pleaded. "Just… just hang on for a second. We need to listen to what else she has to say before we go charging in."

Winry stiffened and the stubbornness he was all too familiar with began to bleed through. He knew, he knew, he knew that they would go. That they would run headlong into Lust's domain, into a ploy he could only begin to imagine she had some involvement in, or at the very least some knowledge of. They would confront the Homunculus again and beg her for information, desperate and broken.

He knew… that they might be setting themselves up to be heartbroken. To find that, despite their pleas, the stone-hearted monster that had taken the Lieutenant's body would find little to sympathize with. They were no strangers to Lust's deceit, and the moment would be opportune for her to tear them down again.

Winry blinked her eyes a few times to rid them of the wetness that had collected in them and slowly breathed out. He was impeding her, impeding them, from Edward.

And suddenly the rationale he had so effortlessly collected over the years began to fracture, and the gravity of May's words finally sank into his mind as the realization overtook him. His brother, the one who had signed his life away to the military so that they could get their lives back, was trapped in an active war zone with a monster. One that would not hesitate to throw him into the fray.

He turned toward May and saw her eyes widen, and he knew that she had given them everything that she knew. Winry pulled her arm from his slackening grasp and he focused on her again. Her eyes were pleading, begging him to follow.

"I'll go with you." Alphonse turned around again and May nodded. "You're worried about confronting the Homunculus again, right? If the three of us go together, we should be able to hold our ground just fine."

"Wait," Alphonse protested. "If you go, then she'll know that you're working with us. We could lose you as one of our messengers."

May's brows knitted together and opened her mouth to respond, but Winry shook her head. "He's right, May. If things go downhill, we need someone to tell Ms. Christmas and Mr. Grumman. We… we can go ourselves." May defiantly pressed her lips together, but her argument was stopped when Winry gave her a tiny smile. "I didn't mean it like that," she clarified. "We're still pawns to them and they need us whether we realize it or not. We'll be fine."

May sighed. "Then if you're planning on going," she said as she raised her palm. "Take Xiao Mei with you." The small panda leapt from her shoulder onto her hand and she held her toward Alphonse. "She'll be my eyes and ears, and she'll know where to find me. I'll stay close by just in case."

It wasn't the best scenario, but it was one of the few options they had left. "Okay," Alphonse said as he offered her his hand. "But only if she stays inside of my armor and doesn't-"

* * *

Surprised by his sudden bout silence, May took a step away back and looked up at him, and instantly noticed that the fiery, red orbs of light that had replaced his eyes had vanished. She barely had a moment to spare as she jumped out of his path a heartbeat later, narrowly avoiding him as he crashed to the ground.

* * *

Edward gasped and rocketed up into a sitting position, clutching at the wound on his stomach. But when he did not feel the shredded cloth or slick slip of the blood that had pooled around his abdomen, he looked down and found that the wound was no longer there. His clothing was untorn and the blood he had seen when he had attempted –no, had successfully- sealed his wound shut.

He lifted his shirt half-expecting to find a scar where the blade pierced him, but once again found himself puzzled by the lack of a mark where it had been. Edward's brows knitted together as a plethora of questions began to flood his mind. He had suffered a life-threatening injury just moments before and had found himself surrounded by the team that had haphazardly brought themselves together to travel north. He remembered speaking with Teacher and in his mind's eye could even vaguely make out what she was saying to him. But now he found himself without her, without Briggs, without—

The gentle rustle of grass tore his attention from his thoughts and he lifted his head, for the first time since he had woken up noticing that he really _wasn't_ at Briggs. Nor was he anywhere he could immediately place. He jerked his head around, trying to find some indication that would point him toward the reason why he had suddenly found himself lying in the middle of a grassy knoll. But everywhere he looked, he only saw grass and hills that stretched as far as the eye could see, all of it accented by a clear blue sky and large, billowing clouds.

He was about to lay back and close his eyes and try to will himself to sleep in the hopes that he could wake himself from the dream he was clearly having when something black caught his attention out of the corner of his eye. Edward turned and found that someone was suddenly there alongside him, just a few meters away.

He immediately recognized the short, black hair and military issued jacket of the individual that stood before him and the hairs on the back of his neck stood one end. "… Mustang?" The addressed didn't return Edward's greeting, instead lifting his hand toward the sun. He watched, still dazed, as Mustang closed his hand and opened it again, repeating the gesture without explanation. It was as though he were trying to catch something… but exactly what Edward wasn't sure.

Pushing himself up onto his knees, Edward unsteadily rose to his feet, eyes never leaving Mustang. Just as he was about to take a step toward him, the latter, without turning toward him, casually muttered, "Hey, Fullmetal."

Edward froze but Mustang did not turn to face him. An odd sense of calm had settled between them, as though the battle they had just endured had not taken place…-

Edward's heart skipped a beat and the thought elicited a memory of the battle they had shared and he looked down at his abdomen, his hand feeling around his stomach for an obvious defect. But when he could not visually detect or feel any abnormalities, he looked up, suspicious of the state he found them suspended in.

It felt as though mere minutes had passed since they had confronted each other, and seconds since Edward had sustained a devastating blow from the blade Wrath had wielded. But the place he found them was not Fort Briggs. The earth was no longer fracturing around them. Instead, they were both situated in a place of serenity, with rolling hills and clear blue skies that were oddly familiar to Edward…

"The outskirts of Resembool," Mustang muttered as he lowered his hand. "That's what you're trying to figure out, right? Where we are?"

Edward looked up, and saw for the first time that Mustang was looking directly toward him. However, when their eyes met, his heart constricted. Rather than the cool, dark-eyed gaze he was so accustomed to seeing, Edward instead found himself staring directly into an eye socket void of the eye it once held. Mustang arched a brow, unaware of his deficiency while simultaneously questioning Edward's unusual stare.

Edward swallowed.

They had been fighting just minutes before, hands at the other's throat. And now they found themselves on a neutral playing field where Edward's wound had been healed and the eye Wrath possessed was gone. Without taking his eyes off the apparition, Edward slowly reached over and pinched himself on the arm. Though it had hurt, the shock was not enough to rouse him from the dream he was clearly experiencing.

"Yeah," he uttered in reply. "That's exactly what I was thinking." If this was a dream like he had assumed, then it meant Wrath could not hurt him. It also meant, however, that he was in an altered state of mind. One that he could not readily stir himself from. He hoped that the longer it drew out, however, the more likely it would be that he would wake up. For the time being, he supposed he could get whatever answer his mind was clearly trying to guide him toward.

"Is it really Mustang I'm talking to?"

Mustang's expression changed, and the cool demeanor he had possessed melted away to reveal genuine confusion. "Of course it is, Fullmetal. Who else would I be?"

"Last time I checked you were being controlled like a puppet by the Homunculus, Wrath."

Mustang's brows knitted together, tossing the seemingly absurd statement around in his mind as though he had no recollection of what Edward was saying. But then, after a few moments passed, something clicked in Mustang's mind, and the bemused air around him took on a more solemn weight. Pressing his lips together, he angled himself away from Edward and averted his glare. "Right… I remember now."

Edward took a cautious step toward the Colonel. "Are you remembering because I do, or are you remembering because _you_ remember?"

The Colonel's lip twitched. "That seems like a silly question, Fullmetal, especially considering that you know this is all a dream."

A frown tugged at Edward's lips. When the Colonel turned away, he pinched the skin on his left arm to wake himself. Despite feeling the sensation in his arm, his body seemingly refused to stir, and he couldn't help but wonder if there was some purpose to that dream, or if the injury he had received had been more lethal than he had realized…

He lifted a hand to his face and tried a more frantic approach, slapping his hand against his cheek. But once again he failed to stir, and he began to panic. He drew his hand back again, but before he contacted his cheek again, Mustang caught hold of his wrist. When he turned toward him, the fictitious Colonel shook his head. "Your heart is still beating and there is still air in your lungs. You're alive, Fullmetal."

Edward yanked his arm from the Colonel's grip and backed away a few steps. His hand circled around his wrist and he rubbed at it, casting a wary glare toward the hallucination.

The one-eyed Colonel seemed untroubled, almost sympathetic of Edward's response, and did not pursue the matter further. Instead, as though he had decided that Edward would not attempt to wake himself again, he once again turned his focus toward the sky.

"So why am I here then? If I'm alive, why am I here talking to a... ghost?" The word was more difficult to form than Edward had anticipated. It stung the back of his throat uttering it. It was an appropriate definition for the apparition that stood in front of him; however, the reference directed toward his commanding officer seemed wrong.

"Your guess would be as good as mine. Clearly there is something your mind is trying to remind you of something. And for whatever reason, the time to muddle through it is now."

"Like what," he pressed. "How can I know something without knowing? Like I'm repressing something?"

The Colonel moved his shoulders. "Think about it."

Edward hissed and raked his fingers through his hair, trying to find whatever the mental block was that had been impeding his thoughts. But no matter what he did, he couldn't grasp an incomplete theory or thought that had been weighing on him. Nothing came to mind. What was this apparition getting at, and why of all times was it now?

"Have you figured it out yet?"

Edward glared at Mustang. "No. I haven't."

Mustang lifted a brow. "You seemed awfully bothered by those nightmares you've had as of late, right? Perhaps those are something you need to be reading into."

Edward pressed his lips together and stared down at his feet. Nightmares...? Where would he even begin?

There had been so many, so much going on in them that it was difficult to remember where one ended and the next began. He could remember Lust driving her claws into him, and how he had attacked Winry after he had woken up. There was another where Lust and Wrath mocked him for taking Al and Winry hostage. Then there was the dream where he had encountered Lust –no, the Lieutenant- in Xerxes. And then, finally, the dream he was having at that moment.

Wait…

He glanced up to find that a knowing smirk had crossed Mustang's face and he slowly backpedaled. The ruins of Xerxes. He kept coming back to the fractured transmutation circle, no matter where he went he always returned to it. Edward had never found any meaning behind it, he hadn't seen anything on it that was pertinent to what he needed to know. So then… why did he keep going back to it? Why did it continue to show up no matter what he did? And why had Lieutenant Hawkeye been there?

"The ruins of Xerxes," he muttered. "Is that what you're trying to get at? That transmutation circle I saw?"

Mustang shrugged. "It could be. You're the one who came to this conclusion on your own."

Edward clenched his teeth. "It'd be really nice if you helped me out a little."

"I didn't take you on as my subordinate so that I could give you handouts, Fullmetal."

Edward fought the urge to call him out on referring to himself as the real Mustang, but instead shook his head and took a deep breath. Mustang's ghost was leading him somewhere; he recognized the look he had given him earlier. "So," he started again. "The transmutation circle in Xerxes has more to it than I thought before?" The Colonel's brow lifted and Edward nodded. "No, it definitely did," he added with more confidence, and Mustang's expression softened. "It's been ruminating in the back of my mind all this time. There's a conclusion there that I just haven't tapped into yet, right?"

For the first time since their conversation began, Mustang gave him an affirmative nod.

"The thing I don't get is why the Lieutenant was there. What purpose did she serve being there if I was focusing on the transmutation circle itself?"

"An unfinished transmutation circle and a human being possessed by a Homunculus." Mustang turned away from him and lifted his hand toward the sky. He opened his hand and then furled it into a fist. "It's an interesting combination for a dream, wouldn't you say?"

"Yeah it's…" Edward trailed off and furrowed his brow as Mustang repeated the motion again. "What are you doing?"

"Both images hold a certain significance to them, Fullmetal. You haven't seen the whole picture yet." The Colonel opened and closed his hand again. "There's a connection there that you aren't seeing."

Edward scrutinized the Colonel's action, watching him continue to furl and unfurl his fist. Every time it appeared like he was trying to wrap his fingers around the sun. As though he was trying to take hold of it.

"You're right, Fullmetal," Mustang said as he interrupted his thoughts. "What I'm alluding to is like trying to swallow the sun," Mustang muttered as he opened his hand. "You see it there in front of you, just within arm's reach. But when you try to grip it," he continued, curling his fingers into a fist, "You realize that it's actually impossible."

"What are you… talking about?" His focused turned to Mustang's closed hand, still metaphorically wrapped around the sun. Swallowing it…? He didn't understand.

"Clearly you do because I'm continuing to repeat this motion until it comes to you again. You've pondered it before. What does the sun mean in alchemical terms? The moon? The fractured pentagram in Xerxes?"

Edward pressed his lips together. There was some familiarity to Mustang's questions. As though he had thought, subconsciously at the very least, about what he was asking. "The sun…" he began. "It means 'the soul.' And the moon is the alchemical symbol that represents 'the mind.'"

"That's right."

"And the fractured pentagram I saw… I thought it was similar to the Philosopher's Stone transmutation circle I saw in the basement of the fifth laboratory. But something about it was different. The soul, the mind… and a Philosopher's Stone?"

"But there's more, isn't there, Fullmetal?"

Edward looked up at the apparition and nodded. "It was different from that equation. I remember that much. For a second just now, I thought that the association I made in my dream related to the Philosopher's Stone that made up a Homunculus, and that was chance that Lieutenant Hawkeye appeared. But now I'm beginning to think that that isn't entirely true."

Mustang nodded. "And what exactly are you thinking about it now?"

"I didn't see Lieutenant Hawkeye as Lust. Well, in some ways I did," Edward explained. "Her eyes were the same color as Lust's. But when she spoke, there was no denying that it was Hawkeye. She was… human." The Colonel's expression turned expectant, urging Edward to finish his thought.

Edward scrunched his brows and turned his eyes toward a patch of grass as his thoughts continued to flow interrupted. "A human being is composed of three parts. The soul, the mind, and the body. My mind kept going back to that transmutation circle because I was trying to create an association that made sense to me using what I saw. I recognized the 'soul' and the 'mind,' but a Philosopher's Stone along with those two makes a human being. And now I'm realizing that it's the 'body' too that makes a human who they are. And the mural itself was made of stone, which is the symbol for 'body.' Therefore," he continued, "That stone in Xerxes was demonstrating another array for human transmutation."

The Colonel chuckled. "See, Fullmetal? All without me having to spoon feed it to you."

The corner of Edward's lip twitched. "Yeah, yeah. But one thing I still don't understand is why you were trying to swallow the su—" Edward stopped mid-thought when he lifted his eyes and found himself standing in front of a slab of stone. Its sudden appearance startled him and he stumbled away. He whirled around, trying to catch sight of Mustang again.

He realized, however, that it wasn't just the appearance of that 'slab' that had changed in his surroundings. Rather, everything had changed completely.

Everywhere he looked, he saw an endless expanse of white. Not too unlike when he had—

"It's been a long time hasn't it, Edward Elric?"

Edward jumped and twisted around to find another Gate directly opposite the one he had appeared in front of. And in front of that was…

"Al...? Alphonse?"

A grin split Alphonse's lips and he shook his head. "You're only partially right. This is your brother's body," he said as he clapped a hand over his heart. "But your brother's soul is not here."

The hairs on the back of Edward's neck stood on end. He should have recognized that smile the moment he saw it. He swallowed the bolus of dread that had caught in his throat and narrowed his eyes. "What are you doing hanging out in Alphonse's body, Truth?"

It tilted its head. "You and your brother are connected, remember?" It thrust its thumb over its shoulder. "His Gate is here and yours," it redirected its pointer finger behind Edward. "Is over there."

Edward clicked his tongue and followed its point, only to find that his view was impeded by something large and metallic. He stumbled a few surprised steps back but stopped when he recognized what had appeared behind him. "Alphonse—"

Edward was within arm's length of his brother now, and he extended his arm to close the distance between them. But when he made a move to grab hold of his brother's arm, his hand fazed through the armor and Edward, still driven forward by his momentum, stumbled clumsily through him.

He caught his footing and spun around to find that Alphonse had not been disturbed. His soul-fire eyes stared directly through Edward and toward the body that sat cross-legged behind him. Edward glanced over his shoulder toward Alphonse's physical body and then turned his attention toward his brother again. "Al," he began again. He waved his hand in front of his brother's face. "Alphonse, hey!"

"He cannot hear or see you."

Startled by the sound of the familiar voice without its metal thrum, Edward turned again and faced Alphonse's body. This time it looked up at him, its dull, golden eyes easily finding and capturing his perplexed stare. A somber expression overtook its face and it shook its head. "You cannot communicate with him. Your brother is on a different plane of existence from you."

Edward's brows furrowed. "'A different plane?'"

It dipped its head. "You—"

"You're… my body…"

Edward whirled around. Alphonse lifted his arm, armor trembling, and slowly extended his hand toward his body. He stopped short, however, fingers barely grazing over Edward's jacket. He jerked his hand away and took a step back. "I'm here again... Why… am I here again?"

"'Again,'" Edward echoed.

"Just as you had learned so long ago, human beings are composed of three parts: the body, the soul, and the spirit. It is his spirit that connects his soul to the body that has been left here." Truth lifted its hand and pressed it over its heart. "Here, he can reunite with his body and become whole."

"Yeah, I know that. I just went over this," Edward retorted, his attention still on Alphonse. That was his entire purpose, his entire reason for becoming the Fullmetal Alchemist. He wanted nothing more than to see the day when his brother was reunited with his body. But… he had imagined it differently. That somehow, in a way he hadn't figured out, was that he would be there in mind, body, and spirit as well so that he could help guide him from the Gate and back to Amestris.

So this… This was wrong. If Alphonse was reunited with his body right there and then, there would be no way for him to return through the Gate. He would continue to live there, feeding off Edward's energy until he found a way to return to him. It was troubling, terrifying, to think that Alphonse could be stuck there for an undetermined amount of time, left alone in that vast expanse of white with only Truth as his company.

But the thing that was most troubling to him, before that could happen, was why. "I don't understand…" he muttered. "Why is he here? And why did he say 'again'?" He turned away from Alphonse to peer toward his body again and narrowed his eyes. "Tell me what happened."

"I think you already know why," Truth answered, gesturing past Edward and toward Alphonse again. Edward whirled around to find that his brother's movements had slowed to a painstakingly sluggish crawl, as though the time that surrounded them had shifted. "His attachment to the armor you bonded his soul to is becoming weaker. Before long, the connection will sever and his soul will retreat to his body. Just as it was meant to be."

"And you're saying that," Edward said as his heart sank into his stomach. "That his soul will eventually leave the armor I bound it to?"

"Another time before, yes," Truth said. "And from this point on, it will continue to happen in rapid succession until he is reunited with his body."

Edward swallowed thickly. "But what I don't understand is why he's here now?"

Al's body's expression shifted, and a look of disappointment crossed its features. "You mean… you haven't figured it out yet? I'm disappointed."

Edward's jaw tightened and he focused his scrutinizing glance toward it once again. Its expression did not change, the sullen look it had adopted growing increasingly melancholy the longer Edward pondered its question. Hadn't figured out what, exactly? In all honesty, his appearance at the Gate, or rather, his appearance beyond the Gate made little sense to him. Of all the times had been there, he had been standing between the Truth and the Gate itself. This time, however, he had found himself stranded in a place that was supposedly exclusive to the Gate and Truth, with only Truth able to contact him.

A place beyond the Gate…

"Can't you feel it, Edward?"

His hand slowly raised and grasped at the piece of his shirt that hung above the spot where he had been wounded. The dull throb had been ever-present during their conversation, but only now did he pay it enough heed to feel it. His hand left his shirt when a sharp jab slammed into his chest, tangling his fingers through the cloth above his heart.

"The continuous drum against your chest? The periodic movement of air between your lips and into your lungs? Don't you feel your body?"

He… did. It was faint, but everything Alphonse's body described suddenly came to fruition as he became hyperaware to all the weak sensations he had failed to pay notice to.

It clapped its hand over its heart. "What you're feeling right now is a valiant effort of those around you trying to keep your body alive."

He drew in a sharp breath as the final pieces of the puzzle suddenly fell into place… and a feeling of sickness filled his gut. He turned, astonished and horrified, toward the body that had once belonged to his brother, and the surly expression it had maintained until that point grew despondent.

"You mean," he muttered…

It nodded. "That's right. You, Edward Elric, are dead."

* * *

When a few moments passed and nothing came of the tasks Marcoh had assigned, he dug into the pocket of his cloak and produced a piece of chalk. "Scar, I want you to continue chest compressions just as you are doing them now until I tell you to stop."

Izumi grabbed hold of his shoulder. "Dr. Marcoh, what are you—"

He ripped his arm away and continued to work furiously on the circle he had begun to craft. "There isn't time, Mrs. Curtis!" He began to work on perfecting the runes, which Izumi offhandedly recognized as 'blood,' 'body,' and 'water.' "I need you to trust me." His hand swept outward as he finished the circle.

"Scar, Falman, bring him over here!"

The two men quickly obliged and half-dragged, half-carried Edward into the middle of the circle.

"Now stay away," Marcoh instructed, and the two men staggered back. Izumi watched, completely lost, as he raised his hands and slammed them against the ground.

A burst of red sparks erupted from the rock and twisted around Edward's body before the alchemic energy dove into his pores and vanished. A millisecond passed and, when nothing happened, Izumi cried, "What were you trying to—" She stopped when Marcoh had returned his focus to the dirt, having already scratched a smaller circle into the ground.

"This is only a theory," he said as he pressed his hand against the second circle. "But right now, it's the only option we have left if we want to save him," he warned as another collection of red sparks danced around his fingers and hand. "So, everyone! Take a step back," he cried as he slapped his hand against Edward's chest.

* * *

"'Dead'," Edward echoed. "But… how? I… I," he looked down at his hands, "I used a fraction of soul as payment to heal myself and… it worked. I sealed it closed!"

Alphonse's body shook its head. "You performed the transmutation as you needed." Its lips curved down into a frown, "Even though you healed the wound that was evacuating the blood from your body, you failed to completely seal the vessels that continued to bleed. As a result, you bled into your abdomen."

"That's… that's impossible."

He had calculated everything down to the finest detail in those desperate moments. He had seared the vessels, pressed and wove the edges of the wound closed. Everything he had done had been done to the utmost degree. It… it couldn't be. Not after all that. Not after everything he had done—

"You of all people should know," Alphonse's body continued as its lips split into a grin. " _Nothing_ is impossible. It's what you learned when you first discovered the existence of the Homunculi. Surely the concept of dying young isn't as big a stretch."

"You say that like it's something to be celebrated."

"Oh, I would never celebrate your death." The frown it had worn before returned to its face. "In fact, I'm disappointed that you didn't figure it out."

"I thought I had…" Edward looked down at the manifestation of his soul, once again lifting his shirt and finding again that the wound had been sealed shut. His fingers glossed over the spot where it had been, outlining the edges of the scar that had been formed. "I thought that I had done everything right…"

"Make no mistake, your alchemy was perfectly crafted. However, as you learned once before, the human body has its limitations. Even the best alchemist will eventually die. Unfortunately," it gestured to him, "Your time came sooner than you thought."

Denial bubbled within him. It was a notion he could not, would not, wrap his head around. He was still there, speaking to Alphonse's body. Though his real brother could not see him, the fact of the matter remained that he was still present enough to interact, even if it was with a body inhabited by truth.

There was still an iota of him in existence, and he decided that he would continue to hold tightly to it.

"Then why am I here," he argued. "You said that I'm in another plane of existence but I don't understand why. You say that I'm dead and yet I'm still here speaking to you."

"The spirit that connects your soul to your body is still intact," it explained. "But it is slowly being drawn taut until," it lifted its fists, simulating holding a string between them, and pulled them apart, "It snaps."

"But it hasn't yet, has it? That's why I'm at the Gate and not beyond it. My soul is still attached to my body, and what they're doing is keeping my body alive. So that means…" He placed his hand against the Gate, slowly dragging his fingers down along the curves and shapes that made up the intricate runes that defined it as his. His hand curled into a fist and he pounded it once against it. "That means I can go back!"

Its silence was uncharacteristic, and Edward threw a glance over his shoulder toward it to find that its mouth was ajar, as though his proclamation was without reason. When it recollected itself, however, its face darkened. "You don't get it, you arrogant child! Your spirit is fading. Your life _will_ be cut short the moment that bond breaks and you _will_ die. There is nothing you can do now but accept the fate you have been handed."

He felt something brush over his arm and he looked down to find that he had flicked one of the Gate's hands away. It recoiled but then continued its advance, slowly winding up his pant leg. He gave it a kick, and it retaliated by clamping down tightly on his leg. Other hands followed suit, slithering from the mouth of the Gate to join the other in taking him. He reached out to grab hold of one that had wrapped itself around his arm, stopped by another that entwined itself between his fingers.

A rush of panic coursed through him and he looked up. A sincere, apologetic smile crossed Al's body's face, and Truth whispered, "I wish you had more time, Edward Elric. You were so close…"

He jerked his head around, fighting the tendrils with what strength he could muster, and reached for Alphonse again. His hand, just as it had before, passed through him.

"Al, please! Please! Can you hear me?!" He waved his hand out again, and once again it passed through his younger sibling. Edward stumbled and the dark shoots seized the opportunity and tightened their hold. He dug his heels into the ground and continued to fight as they began to drag him toward the mouth of the Gate, past Alphonse's body. "Al!"

"I'm sorry it had to end this way, Edward Elric."

"Cut the crap," he hissed as he tore his hand away from the tendrils and grabbed its arm. "You don't _care_! Alphonse, wat!"

Its lips curved down into a frown and it reached up and began to peel his fingers off its shoulder. "Fighting it will only make it more difficult, Edward Elric. Accept your fate so that you may peacefully pass."

"I can't! I won't! Not yet." Edward's feet scraped against the ground and when he tried to catch his footing again, was forced from his feet and ripped away from Alphonse and his body, and thrust into the darkness. He writhed and struggled as the tendrils tightened their grips on him until he was completely immobilized by them.

His eyes darted around until he found the trickle of light that flooded into the darkness from the crack in the Gate's door and he fixated his glare on it. Edward stretched his fingers out and toward the light, but halted just before he completely stretched his arm as an unusual sensation washed over him and began to erode the frantic panic that had overtaken him moments before, and he fell into a chilling sense of calm.

 _So… this is the end_ , he thought as his eyes drifted closed. His limbs loosened and his uphill battle against the Gate's hands ceased. Every iota of fear that had pumped through him ebbed, and he no longer felt the sense of urgency he had before. He supposed that it was inevitable; after all, he was no longer in a hurry to be anywhere anymore.

There were so many things he had failed to accomplish, so much he still had yet to do. His promise to the Colonel and the Lieutenant, and Ling, had fallen through. Their bodies had been taken from them, and they had been left as unwilling prisoners within them. None of it had been deserved. None of what had happened was because of them. If they –no, if he- hadn't drawn them into this, they never would have succumbed to the Homunculis' plan. If he had given them something else to chase they would still be working to fulfill their goals, just as they had done for Edward.

Alphonse and Winry… they would be devastated when they heard. His face contorted as an image of Winry, face beet-red and cheeks stained with tears entered his mind. She would cry for him again. He realized that he never had the opportunity to tell her what he had wanted to most: that the next time she would cry because of him, it would be tears of joy. And now, it seemed, his silent promise would be lost along with him.

And Alphonse… His only family. The one whom he had let down most of anyone. He had persuaded him to help perform the transmutation, despite his wariness. And it ended up costing him the most out of anything: his entire body.

Edward's eyes flew open as the situation's gravity sank in.

No…

His body had been taken, but the bond they shared would be taken the moment his heart stopped beating. His death would mean that the connection to the armor he had created would be broken, and his soul would return to its rightful place: his body. The same body that was trapped between the realm of life and death, left to live in anguish until its malnourishment ate him away to nothing.

He would die there. Alone.

… _No_ …

He couldn't. Not after everything he had been through. Not after enduring life in a body that could not feel. Could not taste. Could not eat. It couldn't be the end for him. Not after everything.

With what little motion he had left in his limbs, Edward stretched his fingers toward the ray of light that bathed the darkness with its brilliant glow. They scrapped clumsily against the roughened stone door and wrapped around the edge, tethering him to the last remaining chance he had.

He couldn't die. He wouldn't.

Not when they were still prisoners in their own bodies. Not when he had made a vow to Winry that if he made her cry, it would be tears of joy.

Not when Alphonse still needed him.

His vision began to blur as the Gate continued to close, unhindered and unyielding toward his attempt to escape.

He couldn't. He can't.

He ripped his other arm away from the tendrils and reached toward the mouth of the Gate. He can't. He can't.

He can't—

"Brother!?" Al caught hold of his wrist and jerked him from the Gate's mouth. "What are you _doing_ here?!"

Edward's eyes widened. "Al… you can see me. Then that means it'll all be alright."

His wrist began to slip through his brother's grip and Al retaliated by grabbing hold of his bicep with the hand that was freed. He braced his feet as best as he could against the traction-less white ground and tugged again, momentarily relieving the shadows' pull. "Of course I can see you, Brother," he cried. "And what do you mean 'it'll be alright?! What will? Why are you—"

His body jerked back and his arm nearly slid through his brother's fingers again. A frustrated cry followed Alphonse's repeated attempt to tighten his hold on Edward's arm. Edward clapped his hand against the spines on his brother's forearm to anchor them together. The hold the Gate had on him was only increasing, and he knew that his time there was drawing to an end. Where he would end up for certain was still a mystery to him, even if Alphonse's recognition had injected a miniscule amount of hope into his overwhelming fear.

"Listen to me, Al," he interjected. "There isn't much time left…" He trailed off as his eyes caught the burning red orbs that had replaced his brother's. His hold on his arm tightened. From just beyond them he could feel Alphonse's body's curious stare and his heart began to ache. They were so close, and yet so far from completing their goal. It would be unbearable to later think that they were within steps of his brother's body, yet were unable to obtain it.

Another day, he reminded himself as the shadows' hold strengthened. He _would_ live to see the day when they both returned to the Gate to reclaim Alphonse's body. Despite the fear building in the back of his throat, he continued, "There isn't much time, Al, but I just wanted to let you know that I'm coming back."

"What… do you mean?"

Edward forced a smile. "Exactly that, Al. I'm coming back. For you. For Winry. The Colonel and the Lieutenant. Ling… I'm coming back for all of you."

"But where are you going now?"

"Trust me, Al. I'll be back—" A final tug of the tendrils forced him from his brother's grip, and Edward was once again forced away. A glimpse of Alphonse, arm still outstretched, flashed through his mind before the Gate slammed shut and immersed him into a sea of darkness.

This time, however, there were no flashes of his life, and no alchemic formulas for him to grapple with. Instead, there was only darkness, and he was left alone with his drifting thoughts.

He closed his eyes, allowing himself to be carried along with the undulating waves of energy that pushed him toward his final destination. Wherever that would end up being…

The sense of calm that filled him somehow felt more final than the other. And yet, it felt more complete. Alphonse had seen him and that meant, at the very least, his body had not betrayed him. He had crossed the threshold of uncertainty into the realm of mortality again, and he liked to think that he continued to hold onto it after his contact with his brother was cut short.

After all, he had a promise to fulfill…

A faint light trickled beneath his eyelids and he slowly opened his eyes. In the distance he could see a white orb of light, not too unlike the sun he would see every time he would turn his eyes toward the sky.

He unfurled his fist and raised it toward it. His clumsy attempt to grab it failed to catch it, and a faint smile touched his lips.

He should have realized it before…

That's what Mustang was trying to tell him. _To swallow the sun_. There had been an metaphor behind his actions, and it _had_ referenced the Philosopher's Stone. Though the relic had been cracked and the image had been lost, Edward found himself constructing a transmutation circle of his own design.

One where the lion would swallow the sun, the alchemical rune that depicted the Philosopher's Stone.

A chuckle a few notes lighter than one crafted by delirium left him, and he shook his head as he grasped at it again. The Philosopher's Stone… the mind, body and soul, the makings of a human being… It meant something more to him. Something that was just beyond the boundary of his thoughts.

Something, he believed, that would solve the answer to his questions about the Philosopher's Stone, and how it could overcome the triad that composed the human body, mind, and soul. Perhaps then, once the answer was uncovered, he would understand how to rip the theory to shreds and break the bonds the Philosopher's Stone created.

" _Edward_ …?"

He moved his arm from obstructing his view, and narrowed his eyes. The light had ventured closer to him, and brought with it an odd sense of familiarity.

" _Ed_?"

His lips parted, but his reply slipped off his tongue. Closer… he needed to be closer.

The voice repeated itself over and over again, chanting his name more frantically than the next.

"… _Edward_?"

This time he recognized it. How could he have missed it before?

He was closer now, just within reach of the light. Edward stretched his arm taut and dipped his fingers into its glow, and he drifted through it.

…

A rush of breath filled his lungs and he erupted into a fit of coughs. Dozens of hands descended upon him and he feebly tossed and turned against them when a stabbing pain tore into his side. He twisted an arm free and pressed it against the wound that had been sealed shut, squeezing his eyes shut.

And paused.

The wound was there when it hadn't been before. And the hands he had felt twisting around him were not the ones that had tried to drag him through the Gate. He drew in another breath and slowly opened his eyes, and he felt a tug on the skin of his chest. His hand left his side and grabbed at the fabric of his shirt, only to find that it had been torn away. Instead, he found, in its place was a well-placed, puffy ring of skin. Edward's fingers traced around it, and he hissed and tore his hand away as its touch elicited a sharp stab of pain.

He raised his flesh hand and held it a few inches from his face, and began to turn it, appreciating how the light that his eyes had slowly began to adjust to highlighted it. There was no denying it. What he was feeling was real. He twisted his wrist and lifted his automail hand and looked down at it, curling the fingers of both hands into fists.

He was…

Edward blinked as the realization slowly began to sink in before he lifted his eyes and found himself staring directly into his teacher's.

Alive…


End file.
